


Bombshell

by Comicbooklovergreen



Series: More than One Kind of Soulmate [11]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Carol (2015), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Bomb Girls cameo, Car Sex, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Jealousy in a good way, Lesbian Sex, Multi, OT3, Peggy Carter wears a suit better than any man ever will, Polyamory, Pretty ladies in pretty clothes, Secret 50's gay clubs, Semi-Public Sex, Stegginelli, double dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-07-05 08:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15859521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comicbooklovergreen/pseuds/Comicbooklovergreen
Summary: Carol and Therese struggle in the aftermath of recent events. Angie suggests a temporary solution—a girls’ night out.Two unconventional families form an unbreakable bond. Tracing a friendship and a family through the years.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna wait until the Blu Ray release of Ocean's 8 to do this but, as usual, I have no self control. Comments are greatly appreciated, as always. We're picking up right after the last installment, so if you haven't read it, catch up or risk mild confusion.
> 
> Also. 50's had different guidelines about babies and food, hence Jake's meal here. He's a Rogers kid, he can take it, it's fine.

“You can’t be serious!”

Abby winced, adjusting the price tag on a dresser as she listened to Carol’s voice through the wall. Even with the office door shut, Abby heard her well enough to be temporarily thankful for a slow day, an empty store.

“That’s…no, that is completely unreasonable. You can’t…fine. _Fine_ I said!”

The phone slammed. Carol exited the office a moment later and the door didn’t fare much better. “Guessing that wasn’t the Staten Island buyer,” Abby said as Carol stalked across the room.

“Why did I marry him, Abby?”

“Can’t help you there, honey, I’ve been asking that since the reception. Hey, hey, come here.” Taking Carol’s elbow, Abby led her back to the counter. When they were safely behind it, she squeezed Carol’s hands. “Still no luck with the old bastard?”

“It’s been weeks, Abby. I haven’t seen her since…”

“I know.” Since Rindy and Lizzie nearly died. “But you’ve talked to her?”

Carol made a noise of disgust. “For a few minutes, here and there. He used to at least let her call me every night. Now I sit by the phone every minute I’m not here and,” Carol pulled one of her hands free from Abby’s pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s not fair, Abby. Finally, we had some real time, a real chance, after years of this, this—”

“Bullshit,” Abby supplied.

“And it’s gone, in one day. It’s just gone.”

“I’m sorry, Carol.”

“He’s there every time I do talk to her, you know, I can tell. First he says she's sick, then she doesn't want to come over, and now it's some bullshit about being busy this weekend. I hate this. Going back to clawing for scraps, seconds with her. She’s my child too, for God’s sake.”

“I know, honey, I know.”

“I don’t know what to do, Abby.”

“Want me to ask Rose to kill him?”

Carol sighed. “You’re not having your girlfriend kill my ex-husband.”

“Why not? She had to work on Valentine’s, she owes me.” Carol’s mouth barely twitched. Abby checked her watch. “Look, it’s dead today. Let’s close up early and get some drinks.”

Carol checked her own watch, rolled her eyes. “It’s not even noon and you want to close. We already lost business from that damn storm.”

“Everyone lost business from that damn storm. We’ll have one of our sofas sent over to Howard Stark’s place when he’s doing his next interview. People will see him there with the next slut starlet of the week, and we’ll have more customers than we can handle.”

“That’s some business plan.”

“I thought so.”

“I can’t anyway. I’m supposed to have lunch with Therese and the girls. Shit, I’m already late.”

“What a shock.”

“Abby.”

“Go on then, abandon me here to steer the ship on my own while you attend a lunch I wasn’t invited to.”

“Abandon,” Carol repeated. “You ignored everyone you knew for three months to have an affair right under our noses.”

“Is there any other way to have a good affair? Go, don’t keep your girl waiting too long.”

“Thanks, Abby.”

“No problem. The way you look, you’d scare away any customers anyway. Fix that before you see Therese and the others.”

“Thanks, Abby,” Carol deadpanned.

“It’s going to be okay, Carol. It will.”

“I hope so.”

* * *

Sitting across from Angie at the table, Therese saw Carol rushing in. She didn’t smile.

“I’m not the only one late?” Carol asked, offering hellos to both before taking the chair next to Therese.

“Oh, you are,” Angie said cheerfully. “Peg’s got Jake in the ladies’ dealing with baby junk, she’ll be right back. We try to make a cushion for you, set everything fifteen, twenty minutes before we actually need it to start.”

“Aren’t you kind?” Carol drawled. She’d barely glanced at the menu before a waiter arrived, though they came here often enough for that not to matter. Still, Carol hesitated. “Should we wait for Peggy?”

“Nah.” Angie waved a hand. “She’s good, she trusts me.”

They ordered and made small talk and Therese tried not to stare at Carol, at her easy smile. Carol chuckled at Angie’s latest story about Jacob, and then the boy in question appeared, wrapped in a sling against Peggy’s chest.

“Hello, darling,” Peggy greeted, stopping by Carol so she could tickle the baby’s chin. Then Peggy took the place next to Angie, careful as she sat. “Darling proper. We’ve ordered then?”

“Got you covered, English.”

“He’s growing like a weed,” said Carol.

“Mmm. Much heavier than a weed. Oh,” she looked at Angie. “I forgot to say. Daniel called just before we left. Violet’s had the baby, a little boy.”

“Awww, you’ll have to get Rose to order booze and cigars for the office.”

“Knowing Rose, she had those ready before the new Sousa even decided to make his debut.”

“Sousa?” Therese asked.

“Danny Sousa. Works with Peg, used to fancy her.”

“Ancient history,” Peggy said. “And he loathes when you call him Danny.”

“I know.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” Carol asked, sipping from the drink the waiter had just brought.

“If I was bothered by everyone who likes or used to like Peg, I wouldn’t have any friends. Give Danny my love, Peg.”

“Have you found your next Tony yet?” Carol asked.

Angie made a noise, wagged the fingers of one hand in a ‘so-so’ gesture while letting Jake grasp at the fingers of the other. “Don’t know. There’s been muttering about a picture that might be a thing.”

“Movies?” said Therese, “I didn’t know you were interested in those.”

“Eh. I’ll always be a Broadway gal at heart, but way more people see the movies. Can’t be so different from the TV stuff I did for _Peter Pan_ , right?”

“I don’t have the slightest idea,” Therese replied. She’d gotten to see the TV studio though, when Angie and the cast shot a version of their show live for Christmas. She’d found it interesting, learned a bit about how the TV cameras worked.

“We’ll see.” Angie smiled at Therese, turned her head to smile more goofily at Jacob. “It’s just talk for now, sounds like a weird project anyway. But one can only pretend to be a twelve-year-old boy for so long, you know?”

Rindy would be heartbroken at the thought of Angie retiring Peter Pan. Or thrilled at the idea of having private shows for the rest of her life. Therese glanced at Carol, said nothing about Rindy.

They chatted a bit more about nothing in particular, and then the waiter arrived with their meals. Peggy frowned at her plate, the frown turning into a slight glare as the waiter left.

“Club sandwich?” Peggy asked, her voice mild but with a hint of steel that would’ve made Therese shrink if it were aimed at her.

Angie only smiled calmly, picked up her fork. “You like them.”

“I said salad.” She looked at Therese. “Did I not say salad?”

“I didn’t hear,” Therese lied, taking time to spread her napkin on her lap.

“I said salad,” Peggy repeated, gaze back on Angie.

“There’s lettuce and tomato on it. That’s basically a salad.”

“Angie.”

“Plus there’s veggies in the soup.”

Peggy rolled her eyes at the soup in question. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re not dieting when the tiny chunk monster relies on you for food. You look great anyway. And chunky chunk monster will get a kick out of the broth.”

Peggy rolled her eyes again, picked up her spoon. “Don’t use the word ‘chunky’ in my presence right now. And see how helpful I am the next time you’re in a tizzy about fitting into that twelve-year-old boy’s costume.”

“You had to go there didn’t you? I’ll just make sure my next role doesn’t require such tight-fitting clothes.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Peggy more coordinated about it than Therese would ever be with a baby strapped to her. Peggy’s reservations about the food seemed to fade rather quickly.

“No Lizzie today?” Carol asked.

“She’s eating with Steve, somewhere far safer than this,” Peggy said between bites.

“Safer?”

“Less civilized.”

“How’s she been?” asked Therese, the food she’d just swallowed going down a little funny all of a sudden.

Angie took a deep breath. “Clingy, but getting better. She’s okay as long as at least one of us is with her. Doesn’t like naps though. Likes them even less than before, I mean.” Angie paused. “She’s worried for Rindy. Misses her.”

Therese forced a small bite of food, looked at Carol, who was being looked at by Angie. Carol seemed not to notice the scrutiny, finishing off her drink and dabbing at the side of her mouth.

“How is Rindy?” Peggy asked, quiet but direct.

“She’s alright,” said Carol. “I haven’t seen her in a little while, but we’ve talked. She’s alright.”

The casualness of it made Therese clench her fork too tight. “It’s been weeks,” she said. “Rindy hasn’t been with us in weeks.”

Carol shot her a look but said nothing, only emptied her drink and nodded when the waiter asked if she’d like another.

“He still ranting about keeping her from you?”

Therese answered Angie before Carol could. “He’s not saying we’re never going to see her again, he’s making excuses so we don’t.” When he bothered to answer Carol’s calls at all, and those were occasions, sporadic at best.

“He’s in one of his moods,” Carol said. “He’ll thaw out, he always does.”

The wording made Therese wince, given what’d caused this in the first place. She tried not to glare as Carol started in on her next drink as soon as it was in front of her. She watched Peggy instead. Peggy who’d threatened Harge if he did exactly what he was doing now. What did she expect, really, for Peggy to abandon her club sandwich, bust down Harge’s front door and carry Rindy away? She didn’t know what she expected. Peggy dunked bread in her soup and did nothing more than listen quietly.

They ate, talked of other things. Carol finished her second drink, got a good start on her third. Therese checked her watch. She was due back soon, and Whitmore wouldn’t be nearly as forgiving to her as Abby would be to Carol if she were late. She made no attempt to leave. Carol said she was going to the ladies.’

“See you in a minute,” Angie said, feeding Jake the mushy vegetables out of Peggy’s cool soup. “I don’t believe in traveling in packs just to use the facilities.”

“I’ll miss you terribly,” Carol quipped.

“So,” Angie said when Carol was gone. “What’s doing in that head of yours, Shutter?”

“What do you mean?”

“You look like you’ve swallowed a lemon, and I know that drink didn’t have lemon in it.”

Therese could’ve lied. Carol would’ve wanted her to. She sat forward instead. “I can’t stand this.”

“What’s that?” Peggy asked, dipping the last of the bread from her sandwich into what remained of her broth.

“Rindy, she’s…Carol’s acting like it’s fine, but it isn’t.”

“No, of course not,” said Angie.

Therese had no idea how she could do that, feed Jake and still make it seem like every bit of her attention was focused on Therese’s words. It was a nice change of pace, feeling heard. “She won’t talk to me. She leaps for the phone every time it rings, she drinks too much when it doesn’t. She cries at night, in the shower, but when I…she won’t talk to me. I don’t know what to do.”

Angie sighed as Jacob giggled, made an absolute mess of himself. “She thinks she’s protecting you. Or herself. Sometimes people are hurting and they think they’re doing a good job of carrying it themselves. When really all they’re doing is carrying around a bad smell that follows them everywhere, and they think we don’t notice.

“Why are you looking at me when talking about bad smells?” Peggy asked, eyes narrowed.

“No reason, hon. “

Peggy scowled, then addressed Therese. “I know it’s hard, but Carol’s right. Harge will drop the game, he’s too much like Steve for anything else.”

Therese frowned deeply. “How is Harge anything like Steve?”

“They’re both slaves to their daughters, in the end. He may relish making Carol miserable, but ultimately he’ll do whatever makes Rindy happiest with him.”

“Which is?”

“Giving her mother back.”

With an empty glass of her own, Therese stole a sip from Carol’s much stronger drink, winced. “I don’t know how long we can go on like this. I don’t know how long _I_ can.”

Peggy’s smile was sympathetic. “You’re stronger than you think. Go a day at a time. He’s a busy man, he’ll find new distractions. He won’t be able to keep this going.”

“Why do you say that?”

Peggy flagged down a waiter to ask for the check, but a bit more bread to go with it.

“I thought you weren’t hungry.” Angie grinned.

“Don’t gloat.”

“Listen,” said Angie. “The last few weeks have been crap. We haven’t had a proper night out since this one invaded.” Angie caught Jake’s foot, tickled it. “Let’s make a night of it, the four of us.”

“What about the kids?” Therese asked.

“Steve,” Angie said simply.

“What about Steve?” she pressed. “Won’t he want a night of fun too?”

“He’ll be fine, we’ll work it out. Girls' night, what do you say?”

“Well,” said Peggy. “Our try at a morning date didn’t pan out. Perhaps we’d have better luck at night.”

“Exactly. How about it, Therese?”

“I’m not sure,” Therese replied. “Carol…”

“Needs a break just as much as you do. It’ll be good for both of you.”

Therese couldn’t deny the appeal of leaving that empty apartment. Rindy’s toys were neatly put away, waiting in her room, out of use for too long. “You think?”

“I do. English, think you can get us in at the usual place?”

“I can always get us in at the usual place.”

“What place?” Therese asked, looking between them.

“Don’t get to know unless you go, Shutter. Trust me, it’ll be just what you guys need.”

“I hope so.”

“You don’t sound all that hopeful,” Peggy observed.

Therese flicked her eyes to the right, in the direction Carol went. “We’ll see what happens, okay?"  
 


	2. Chapter 2

“I can’t, Therese, I’m sorry. But you should absolutely go, have fun with your friends.”

Therese fought to keep her shoulders from slumping. She was on their sofa, watching Carol pour a drink from the makeshift bar in the corner. “ _Our_ friends. It’s supposed to be a date night. Peggy, Angie, and me just tagging along? Nobody likes a third wheel.”

Carol’s eyebrows lifted. “Peggy and Angie are both in a relationship that’s built entirely around a third wheel.”

“Not in the bad, tag-along way.” Carol smiled at that, chuckled, and it bothered Therese. “You know what I mean.”

"I suppose." Carol swirled the ice in her drink, sighed, "I know. And I’m sorry, truly. I just have some things I need to do here.”

“What kinds of things?” Therese pressed, too much like a child seeking attention. No, bad comparison, especially when no one had been paying attention to the girls when…

Stop. The thoughts had to stop there or they wouldn’t at all.

“This month’s numbers for the store, I need to run over them.”

“Don’t you have an accountant for that?” A stressed Carol was an obsessive one, one who nitpicked and took care of things long taken care of.

Not that Therese could say much on the subject, given how many times she’d disassembled her camera to clean it in the last few weeks.

“Yes, and he’s very good, but I’m still checking the numbers. What if he tries to steal away our vast fortune? Can’t have some man putting us out on the street, can we?”

“At least we’d be there together.”

Carol’s annoyance shown through. “It’s a bad time for it, Therese. What do you want me to say?”

I want you to make time for me even in your misery. To let me feel it with you. To act like I matter.

Therese did not say this aloud. Instead she fiddled with her sleeve as she watched Carol. "I want you to say yes. I want to spend time with you, Carol.”

"We've spent every night together," Carol said. Scoffed, really.

The ice in Carol’s glass clinked when she moved, rattling Therese’s nerves, setting her teeth on edge. “No, we haven’t. We’ve been two people who share a space and nothing else. You’re in your head, nowhere near me.”

“In my head? Do you know how many times I have to ask you where you are in yours, still?”

“Yes. And I answer you.” She let the sentence hang between them.

“Therese…”

"Even if we don't go out, just spend a night with me. Please? We can stay home and be together, not just near each other. I'll even buy those silly aluminum tray dinners and watch Hitchcock with you if it means you'll be with me." She was aware how ridiculously pleading she sounded, didn't care. She was hurting too.

Carol watched her for a moment, and Therese tried hard not to squirm. Finally, Carol downed the last drops of her drink, swirling the glass. "Hitchcock is on Sunday."

"That's not the point. You know what I mean."

"If we go on Friday we'd be missing Miss Brooks."

"Carol—”

"Which is a somewhat worse offense."

"Carol, you're making fun of me."

“I’m not. We’ll go, dearest Though I don’t know how much you should expect out of some pub in New Jersey Peggy says is ‘smashing.’ What the hell sort of time do you think we’ll have?”

The curse was casual, no raised voice. “They don’t even want to go until nine. That’s after most of the good shows. And after Rindy’s bedtime.”

Carol stiffened. She refilled her drink. “This has nothing to do with Rindy.”

Therese wanted to cry. A bigger part of her wanted to scream. She got up, strode across the room. Carol barely had time to get out of her way as Therese stopped at the bar.

“That’s bourbon,” Carol said while Therese poured into a glass.

“I know what it is. I can read,” Therese snapped, annoyed at herself because Carol wouldn’t have, and she sounded childish.

“Therese?”

“You’re not the only one who can have a drink.” The glass felt slippery, her hands shaky. She drank and grimaced, wished Carol hadn’t seen her make the face. But she wouldn’t turn away. What would happen if they both turned away?

“I know that. Jesus.”

“And Harge being cruel to you isn’t a reason for you to be cruel to me.”

“You think that’s what I’m doing?”

“You think it’s not?”

“Darling, please?”

Carol set her drink down. She sounded more like the person Therese knew. She sounded completely lost, like she didn’t know what was happening or why, and it broke and infuriated Therese in equal measure. “Have I done something, to make me suddenly the same to you as everyone else?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Why do you lie? To me, in our house, why do you lie?”

“I’m not—”

“Stop. Please just stop. You miss Rindy.”

“Of course I miss Rindy.”

“Then why the hell are you lying about it?” Almost yelling, Therese took a breath, took a drink. “You don’t want to go anywhere in case Rindy calls.”

“I…yes. I’m sorry, Therese. If you want to go out—”

“I don’t.”

“Then what?”

“I want _you_. Us.”

“I’m right here.”

“No, you’re not. You’re with Rindy. You want to be with Rindy and that’s, for God’s sake don’t apologize for it but don’t come to lunch and have your salad and chat about it like it’s nothing.”

Carol breathed. Her hand moved in an odd, halted way. She’d reached for her drink and stopped herself. “It’s not something you go on about over a bread basket. They almost lost Lizzie, too.”

“Do you go on about it with Abby? Do you tell her the same things you tell Peggy and Angie? And me?”

Carol closed her eyes. “Abby’s different.”

“Why? Why is she different?” It sounded like something it wasn’t, like jealousy. Jealousy wasn’t a factor, hadn’t been in years. She’d dealt with it as much as she ever could, and she loved Abby. “Why is it okay for you to hurt with her but not me?”

Carol drank again, put the drink back down. “Because it’s okay for her to hurt, but not you.”

“What?”

“Every time, _every time_ something happens between Harge and I and Rindy, you apologize.”

“Because that’s what people do, Carol. That’s what they do when something is unfair.”

“That’s not why you apologize. You blame yourself, you always have, and it’s nonsense. You blame yourself for a choice that was mine, that you had nothing to do with, no matter how many times I tell you it wasn’t your fault.”

Therese froze, stared into her drink. “That’s not true. It was once, but it’s not now.”

“Look at me and say that,” Carol said gently, “since it’s honesty hour.”

Therese set her drink down, looked up. “It’s mostly not true anymore,” she amended,” because no matter what Carol said, no matter that Therese wasn’t even there when the choice was being made, Therese had played a part in it. She was reminded of that whenever Rindy left the apartment, whenever she saw Carol willing the phone to ring. “I blame Harge, mostly.”

“Mostly.”

“It’s the best I can do, Carol. I can’t do anything else. I can’t do anything for you because you won’t let me. Don’t shut me out and then blame me for it.”

Carol didn’t speak for a long time. Her voice broke when she did. “I’m scared, Therese.”

“I know that. You think I don’t know that, that I don’t see? God, Carol.” She held Carol’s face in her hands, warm after the cold of the glass. “I miss her too. I’m scared too. And I’m not allowed to show those things because you don’t.”

“That’s not true, Therese.”

“You’re her mother. How am I supposed to talk about her when you don’t?”

“You’re her mother too.”

Therese shook her head, let her hands drop. “You say that. And then you keep us separated.”

“I’m not the one who—”

“You keep me separate from your pain about Rindy, or you try to. But you…” Therese shook her head again, physically fighting against Carol's words, hating the inadequacy of her own. “You and Rindy made me her mother. You can’t undo that.”

“I’d never want to.” Carol sounded horrified by the idea, desperate to rail against it.

“Then stop separating us. You don’t get to just, just miss her and want her and worry for her and act like I don’t feel those things. You don’t get to brush it all away and act like I shouldn’t feel them.”

“Therese—”

“I have nothing in this, Carol, no power at all! You’re her mother, legally. I’m the damn shopgirl.”

Carol grimaced. “No. Never. You—”

“I can’t do anything. About any of this. I can’t even miss her, because you won’t. And I sit here and I think about losing her and not being able to do a damn thing about it, and I’m losing you too.”

Carol flinched. Backed away a few steps. She looked stricken. That was the only word Therese had for it. “You’re not losing me. Is that what you think?”

“You lie about how you’re feeling, about the most important thing in your life, right to my face. What if that means I’ve already lost you?”

“Therese, no. No.”

“When you put on that mask that you use with everyone else, what am I supposed to think?” She was crying now, loathed it. “When you put on that mask that’s so incredibly transparent, for me, do you know how terrifying that is? How insulting?”

“No,” Carol said, barely audible. “I didn’t know. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I’m worried. I’m worried, Carol. I can’t control when or if I see Rindy, and that’s bad enough, but when you’re gone too?”

“I’m not gone. You’re not losing me.”

“Then _be_ with me. You think this is about some pub in New Jersey? If you want to stay home every night for the next month and call Harge every minute until he picks up, then do it. But let me do it with you because you’re not the only one hurting. If you want to get your mind off of it, then let’s go out. With or without the girls, I don’t care. We’ll go out and do everything we can to forget about this. I’ll do everything I can to help you forget. Just…pick one, one you really want, and let me in with you. Because this,” Therese gestured, almost upset a glass, “this saying one thing and meaning another and pushing me away the whole time like nothing I say or think matters, this hurts too much.”

Quietness rang in the apartment. Therese drank, set the glass down, willed her tears to stop. Carol stepped closer, held out her hand carefully, imploringly. “God. I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?”

Therese didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry, my love.”

Sniffling, Therese ran a rough hand over her eyes. “You can’t do this anymore, Carol. I’m not just some girl you met at a store anymore. You can’t just shut me out.”

“Never. You were never just some girl in a store.” Carol let out a breath as Therese took her hand. “I’m sorry, Therese. I don’t know how to do this sometimes.”

“Do what?”

“Be with someone like this, share a life.”

“You were married to Harge for years.”

“Don’t compare that to what we have. Even when I’ve fucked it up terribly, please, please don’t.”

“It’ll be alright, Carol. We’ll be alright.” Despite all the sadness and frustration of the last few weeks, Therese couldn’t let Carol think otherwise. She was rewarded with a soft, shaky smile, nothing like the casual confidence displayed at lunch with Angie and Peggy.

“My worst days with you will always trump my best days with him. You need to know that.”

Therese watched her, interested. “You loved him once, though.” It was an admittance that Carol had made freely, that remained hard for Therese to deal with, much harder than any lingering jealousy toward Abby. Carol had told her she loved him once, and Therese wondered about what she was saying now, how much of it was fueled by Harge’s more recent actions.

“I did. I was even happy with him, for awhile. But that didn’t last. And even while it did, I couldn’t tell him things, couldn’t open up.”

Like Therese needed her to now. “Because he wouldn’t listen?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes he genuinely tried, but he couldn’t understand.” Carol touched a thumb to the corner of Therese’s eye, getting rid of a tear. “He wasn’t like you. I never loved him like I love you, not for a second.”

Therese let herself be pulled into a hug, wanted to sag with the relief of it, but stopped herself. “I love you too.” She rubbed Carol’s back, held tight. “That’s why I need you. All of you, not just the parts everyone else gets to see.”

“Even the hideous bits?” Carol stroked Therese’s hair.

“Shut up,” she muttered. “Nothing about you is hideous. Confusing. Frustrating. Infuriating. But not hideous.”

“Well, at least one of us is capable of brutal honesty.” Carol pulled back, regarded Therese. “Do you want to talk about her?”

“Hmm?”

“Rindy. You were right, I haven’t even asked how you’ve felt and it’s horrible.”

Did she? Now that the choice was there, Therese wasn’t sure. The thought made her chest hurt, the same way her silence had all this time. Would she start crying again if they did speak of it? Probably. How long before she’d be able to stop again? Was this part of why Carol had latched so tightly onto such a weak facade?

“I do, but not yet,” Therese said, lacking a better answer. “Right now, I just want you.”

“I’m here,” Carol promised even as she led Therese away from the bar, their drinks, to the sofa. They arranged themselves so Carol laid across the couch, Therese on top of her, in her arms.

“Am I too heavy?” Therese asked, pressed her ear to the steady thrum of Carol’s heart.

Carol made a noise of disbelief. “You’re perfect.”

“Hardly.”

“Well, when compared to me.”

“Well in that case…”

Therese got a gentle pinch for that, eliciting a noise she both wasn’t proud of and didn’t care about in the slightest. After a reflexive movement of surprise, she settled her ear back to Carol’s chest. How amazing, she thought, that a heart could still pump so strong and steady when half of it was broken.

“I didn’t mean to be cruel to you,” Carol said.

Therese felt the words rumble through her. “I know. You never do.” Carol hadn’t meant it that night at her house, when Harge took Rindy that first of many times. “I’ve always known you don’t mean it.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“No,” Therese agreed. “It doesn’t. And you’re not cruel. I hate when you let him make you that way.”

Carol held her tighter. “I’m sorry, Therese. God, I’m sorry.”

Therese kissed Carol’s collarbone. “I know. I’m still mad.”

“Therese—”

Therese leaned up to kiss her. “Make it up to me. Be with me. Be the real you, with me.”

Carol squeezed her tighter, kissed her hair. After a bit she tapped at Therese’s arm, a silent request to move.

Therese made a small noise, held fast to Carol. “Where are you going?”

“To call Angie, get our plans sorted out.”

Therese looked up at Carol, at the eyes that were too bright, but dry. “I meant it, you know. We don’t have to go anywhere.”

Carol hummed. “We can stay home and watch Hitchcock and eat from aluminum trays?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds…utterly terrible.”

Therese laughed, heard a real laugh from Carol. She flicked Carol’s shoulder. “I thought you liked Hitchcock?”

“I like that you like it.”

“Dannie likes it. He likes the writing, trying to guess where it’s going. We talk about it at work after.”

“And I’m glad you and Mr. McElroy have something you can bond over besides your psychotic boss.”

“You really don’t like it?”

“I like hiding against you while you protect me from it. But I can’t sit here building my life, our life, around Harge and his whims. It’s exactly what I said I’d never do again. So, I’ll call Angie?”

“Sure. In a minute,” said Therese, refusing to let Carol go.

Carol chuckled, adjusted herself to hold Therese more comfortably. “Okay. In a minute.”

“I love you, Carol.”

“I love you. And I am so, so lucky.”

“Carol?”

“What, sweetheart?”

“You really, don’t like Hitchcock?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts, or just to hear from you guys. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined.
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shall I pretend that the next little while isn't just an excuse to put all the pretty people in extra pretty clothes, particularly to put Peggy Carter in a suit? Sure, let's pretend. Behold, roughly what everyone is wearing.
> 
> Therese:
> 
> https://image.dhgate.com/0x0s/f2-albu-g5-M00-7B-08-rBVaI1kuhCmARcB1AACkR1Jut-Y674.jpg/unique-black-women-1950s-vintage-dress-star.jpg
> 
> Carol: 
> 
> https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/2714/9310/products/Unique_Vintage_1950s_Emerald_Green_Delores_Swing_Dress_with_Sleeves.jpg?v=1516343228
> 
> Angie:
> 
> https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1sXNiIXXXXXa3XVXXq6xXFXXXi/Women-1940-S-1950-S-Vintage-Style-Retro-Halter-Strapy-Flared-Tea-Dresses-Swing-Skater-V.jpg_640x640.jpg
> 
> Peggy:
> 
> https://cdn1.thr.com/sites/default/files/2016/09/conviction_-_hayley_atwell_-_still_-_h_-_2016.jpg

“Would you stop fussing?” Carol laughed, one hand on the wheel, the other swatting the compact out of Therese’s.

“Would you watch the road before we crash?” Therese retorted, holding the makeup out of Carol’s reach.

“I think we’re safe now,” Carol drawled, cutting the engine in the Carter-Rogers-Martinelli driveway. “Stop fussing.”

“I want to look good. We haven’t had a night out in a long time.”

“Honey, you don’t look good. You look absolutely spectacular.”

Therese looked down at herself. The dress was one Abby forced her to buy ages ago, in hopes of conning her into attending one of Abby's 'famous' mixers. A fate Therese had avoided so far, Thank God. Which meant the black and white patterned dress stayed in the closet, hanging in it's dry cleaning bag. It looked less…revealing,  on the hanger, she thought. The hem swayed just below her knees, and the lack of sleeves had her almost wanting to find a sweater “You think?”

Carol took her hand, kissed it. “I know. I know you can’t improve on perfection. And I know it’s dark as hell and you can’t even see what you’re doing anymore, so stop.”

Therese looked at Carol, shot her a mock glare. “I have to look like I can stand next to you, don’t I?” The nature of her gaze changed as she studied Carol.  It was a dress she'd probably had for years, the way she moved in it, though Therese couldn’t recall seeing it in their closet. A dark shade of green cut just low enough in the front to be decently indecent, and just high enough on the leg that if Carol moved exactly right it settled just above her knees. She had sleeves that covered her upper arms at least, though not her entire arm. Abby would think it modest. “You’re stunning, Carol. Gorgeous.”

“Why don’t we both agree that we’ll be the most gorgeous people in the room and be done with it?” Carol asked, amused.

“Angie said Peggy’s wearing a suit.”

“Is she? Huh.”

They regarded each other. Therese was reminded of Angie’s comment about not having any friends if she discarded everyone who found Peggy attractive.

They went to the door and barely got a knock in before Angie threw it open.

“Hey!” Her smile was even more infectious than usual. Her dress was a rich red, and definitely left all of her knees showing. It was layered at the bottom, making Therese think of the way silk robes folded when on a hanger. If she moved it would spin wide around her. It wasn't as low-cut as Carol's dress, but it was also missing any sort of sleeves at all. Or shoulders. Or anything besides a strap that seemed to go from one corner of the front, around her neck, and to the other side. All of which looked even better under the proper lights of the house, outside of the cold.

“Look at you two!” Angie declared, taking Therese’s hand and turning her into a spin that put her dress on full display and made her laugh. “We are going to be the belles of the ball tonight, ladies.”

“And we’re still saying this ball takes place in a pub?” Carol asked, without forgetting to compliment Angie’s appearance afterward.

“It’s a nice pub,” Angie said as Steve approached, a sleepy, pajama-clad Jake in his arms. “Eat your heart out, Soldier.” She spun when she spoke to him, standing with a hand on her hip in pose. The dress had no back on the top, and left a lot of skin exposed. “I’ll have these gorgeous gals all to myself tonight.”

“You sure you can handle them yourself, Ange?” Greeting Therese, Steve stopped in front of Carol, chuckling when she held out her hand in an imperious, exaggerated manor. He kissed it, less like Carol had done to Therese in the car, more like the rich men in the pictures.

“I can handle them a hell of a lot better than you can, baby,” Angie said, hand still on her hip, daring him to challenge. He didn’t, only grinned.

“You’re just going to hang out with the kids?” Therese asked.

Steve shrugged, kissed Jake’s head. There were tiny stars and stripes shields on his pj’s. “Howard’s going to come by later. We’ll entertain ourselves.”

“As long as he doesn’t wreck my house in the process,” Angie warned. “I know he gave me one once, but still.”

“No house wrecking,” Steve promised.

“And no entertaining you the way I hear he’s been entertaining Fisher. I know I share you, but I never said I’d do it with that slut.”

“Howard or Eddie?” Steve asked.

“Both. Either.”

Peggy’s voice came from above as she descended the stairs. “Not to worry, darling. That kind of entertainment between Steve and Howard was purely of the wartime variety.”

“Only because Steve slept through the end of the war and you scooped him up as soon as he was awake.”

“You scooped me up too,” Steve pointed out.

Therese half-heard all this. Most of her attention was focused on the vision that was Peggy Carter in a suit. It wasn't ill-fitting at all. The pants were cut to her body, the same as any Steve wore. The white dress shirt actually held at the ends by cufflinks. The black vest she had on stretched a bit tighter at the bust than any man’s would, but that wasn't exactly a terrible thing. The black tie, tucked behind the vest, drew the eye far too much. Her hair was down, and straightened, no curls. That was new.

Therese glanced at Carol. Carol was watching Peggy in a way that wasn’t the look Therese knew, the one she received all the time when things were good with them. It was something though. Like when Carol saw a particular piece of furniture she desperately wanted.

“You, Director,” said Angie, hooking her fingers into Peggy’s lapels, “are going to wine and dine the ever-loving hell out of me.”

“And you are an actor’s actor, a true romantic,” said Peggy, holding onto Angie’s waist.

“I haven’t gotten to show you off in forever and you know it.”

“I do.” Peggy kissed her, barely, not enough to ruin her lipstick. “But none of the Director nonsense,” she said, shooting a quick look at Carol and Therese. “I’ll have enough of that later, so, ‘Peggy,’ if you please.”

“Sure thing, Director Peggy.”

“You’re a terrible brat.”

“But I look fabulous in this dress.”

“So you do. Are we ready, then?”

Therese thought she heard something under the cheerfulness of the question, had it confirmed when Steve carried Jake over to his mothers.

“Take care of Daddy, little man,” Angie said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. She kissed Steve next, quick but loving. “You’re sure Lizzie’s sleeping good?”

“Out like a light. Go. Have fun.”

Peggy’s goodbye to Jake was longer. She kissed his temple, his cheek, and Therese wondered if she’d left him like this since he’d been born. She wondered if Carol was like this the first time she’d spent a night away from Rindy. She looked away from Peggy, sought out Carol. She squeezed Carol’s hand and Carol squeezed back, even if the smile she offered was shaky at best.

“He’s going to be fine,” Angie said, not unkindly.

“Says you,” Peggy grumbled, though she did hand Jake back over to Steve.

“Said you about Lizzie a few years ago and you were right.”

Peggy made a noise at the back of her throat, kissed Steve. She seemed to remember Therese and Carol were there, and her demeanor shifted. “Right. Are we ready?” she asked again, more enthusiastically than before.

“Don’t forget your hat, Peg,” Angie said, reaching for her coat.

“Darling, please. When have I ever?”

* * *

The hat in question was not the red fedora Peggy usually favored, but a dark narrow-brimmed trilby that matched her suit.

“I never pegged you for one of those girls,” Carol said. They were in the backseat of Peggy’s car. Peggy drove, Angie unashamedly touched and toyed with the suit when they were at red lights, and sometimes when they weren’t.

“You never pegged me, did you?” Peggy repeated. “Intentional pun?”

Carol rolled her eyes while Therese laughed, held her hand. They were in a neighborhood Therese had never visited before. The buildings were old, faded. The car kept getting jolted by potholes. Therese was reminded of Richard long ago, and his warnings about parts of Jersey that weren’t safe at night.

“Where exactly did you say this place was?” Carol asked.

“I didn’t, but it’s right about here,” Peggy said, pulling up to an empty curb and cutting the engine.

They were in front of a tiny brick building, sandwiched between two larger ones. It had probably been red once, but now the bricks had turned a color Therese struggled to identify. There was nothing to indicate what was inside. Therese shared a look with Carol as Peggy and Angie got out.

“You sure you want to leave the car here?” Carol asked, in a tone Therese knew was only half-joking. Carol linked her arm through Therese’s as a siren wailed in the distance, gave her no choice in the matter.

“No one’s going to touch that car,” said Angie. “Won’t like what happens if they do.”

“No?” Therese asked, checking her surroundings as they followed Angie and Peggy.

“Car’s been Starked. No one’s messing with it.”

“Starked,” Carol repeated. “That sounds filthy.”

“Oh honey, you ain’t seen filthy until you’ve seen what Howard and Brando have been getting up to. Come on.”

Peggy held the door open to Tim’s. So a tiny neon sign in the corner declared it. IM’S, it actually declared. One of the letters was out. The others came in a shade of green that reminded Therese of dying grass just before it turned brown.

The place was small and sad. And dusty, the bottles behind the bar were covered in dust. There was a jukebox in one corner that looked dead and played nothing. With no music, all they could hear was the occasional noise of the patrons. All three of them, none dressed for a proper night out. Two men were at a table near the back, playing cards. They seemed to be putting more effort into speaking as little as possible than they were the game. There was a woman at the far end of the bar. Her hair was mostly gray, her chin propped up on an elbow. Therese couldn’t tell if she was awake or not. The bartender, a balding man cleaning a dirty glass with a dirty rag, didn’t appear to care either way and barely looked up at their arrival. The look he did give them was more of a scowl, as though he resented them for daring to actually find this place and wanted them to leave.

Therese most definitely wanted to leave.

She thought suddenly of the breakroom at Frankenberg’s. How ugly and lifeless it was. The unforgiving lighting, the cold lunches in plastic trays, the admonishing signs warning all to keep the room tidy, as thought it was something to be proud off. The employees who walked around like zombies. The woman at the bar reminded her of Ruby Robichek. She’d worked at Frankenberg’s longer than Therese had been alive, with arthritis so bad that Therese had wondered every day at lunch whether the woman would be able to get up to return her tray, much less be able to return to the floor, wait on customers. Therese imagined herself back at Frankenberg’s, coming into that breakroom with her Santa hat in place, wearing this dress, doing a twirl for all her zombie co-workers. She let out a nervous, strangled laugh, felt Carol staring.

Carol no doubt thought she’d lost her mind, right along with Peggy.

“Evening, Andrew,” Peggy greeted the balding man, approaching the bar without touching it.

Andrew. A pub named Tim’s was being run by an Andrew. Why did that part of it seem the strangest to Therese?

Andrew grunted at her, that scowl holding steady.

“How’s business? How's the family?"

“What d’you want?” he replied in an accent that may have been British, but wasn’t remotely as appealing as Peggy’s.

“So,” Angie said, smiling at Carol and Therese, “martinis to start with?”

Therese stared helplessly between Angie and Carol. One of the men playing cards lit a cigarette and hacked as though his lung was about to come up.

“You take far too much pleasure from this part,” Peggy told Angie.

“Says the one who designed this part.”

Peggy shook her head leaned in closer to the bartender. "I was rather hoping you'd be able to make me a lavender fizz."

Andrew put the glass down, stepped over to the dusty bottles behind the bar. He moved one as if to pull it down. The wall moved instead, the bottles clinking as some sort of mechanism pushed them of to the side, revealing a hidden set of stairs.

Therese swore she’d seen something like it on _Alfred Hitchcock Presents_ once. The other patrons didn’t look up.

“Family’s great, Director,” Andrew said. The smile he wore transformed his whole face, and his accent was almost unrecognizable now. “Don’t know why you insist on this every time, if you don’t mind my saying. Obviously you’re you.”

“Protocol, Andrew, we must always respect protocol,” Peggy said, cheerily.

 “Angie. Dave’s taken the girls to see _Peter Pan_ five times now,” said the misnamed Andrew.

“Aww. Was that the kids’ idea, or Dave’s?” Angie asked, matching his smile.

“Both. You going to be doing it at Christmas again next year? We all love seeing you on TV.”

“I don’t know, honestly. Let’s see if I can get through tonight and I’ll get back to you about next year. Give Katey and Margot a kiss for me?”

“Always.”

“And tell Davey he still owes me five bucks, huh?”

Andrew laughed. “I’ll tell, for all the good it’ll do.” His eyes went back to Peggy. “You ladies have a nice time, boss.”

Peggy thanked him as Angie strode around the bar and waited next to the concrete steps. Carol and Therese stared until Peggy gestured them forward. “Well, come on then. Come into my parlor.”

Angie snorted. “And I’m the one who gets off on this too much.”

“Let’s get downstairs before we talk about getting you off, daring.”

Therese remembered suddenly a battered copy of _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_ that the kids at the school used to fight over. Down the rabbit hole.

 Therese followed Peggy and Angie, Carol right by her side. When they were all through the secret passage (dear God she was thinking that phrase in real life) the door/wall closed behind them. There were more stairs, more concrete, the path lighted from a source Therese couldn’t see. As they climbed further down, Therese heard and felt a thrumming noise.

“This isn’t a fallout shelter, is it?” she asked.

“I mean, technically,” said Angie.

“It’s a lot of things,” said Peggy. “That’s just the music, don’t worry.”

And indeed, as they descended the thrumming became more than that, became muffled song. Finally, Peggy stopped at a metal door with no markings whatsoever. Peggy looked at Angie. “Do you want to, or should I?”

Angie considered. “Why not let them do it? First time and all.”

“Good point.” Peggy stepped back from the door. “After you, ladies. Welcome to Bombshell.”

Therese looked at Carol. They approached the door. Carol snagged her hand and whispered in her ear. “How fast can you run in those heels?”

Therese giggled, figured Carol was at least partially joking. She waited, and when Carol did nothing, threw out whatever sanity was left to her and twisted the doorknob, opened it.

The music was much louder without the door blocking it. Therese gasped at what she saw, but doubted anyone heard it. Carol was so close to her that she did hear the blonde’s reaction, barely.

“Holy shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts, or just to hear from you guys. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined.
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The version of "In the Mood" mentioned here is done by the Andrews sisters. No relation to Kate Andrews, who I shamelessly stole from Bomb Girls because my enabler is Satan.
> 
> Also, wine makes Therese feel naughty...

It made Carol think of Peggy's office.

Rich colored wood, smoke grey, and a deep red seemed to be the favored colors. There were booths against a few walls in that deep red, a few little tables Carol could see through what looked like a trellis decorated by fairy lights. A long bar where she recognized one of the bartenders vaguely but couldn’t for the life of her remember why. Above the bar was a large sign, _Bombshell_ proclaimed in curving neon font. On stage, a pretty, redheaded singer was belting her heart out on a jazzy number that had Angie humming along immediately.

And then there were the patrons. All dressed in their finest, nothing like the people upstairs. Several women wore suits not unlike Peggy’s, though no one wore them as well. The suited ladies danced with other women in dresses.  A man with close-cropped hair and a dark blue tux swung another man in his arms, stole a kiss before spinning him in the other direction. Two of the women, heedless of the quick tempo of the music, swayed slow against each other, kissing as though they were the only ones in the room.

Carol was still registering just what kind of place she’d been brought to when a man hurried over, took their coats, Peggy’s hat. Peggy was called “Director” again.

“Follow me, ladies!” Angie said over the music. With one arm linked to Peggy’s, Angie grabbed Therese’s hand with the other, pulling her through the crowd.

Carol, holding Therese’s other hand, had no choice but to follow.

Many, many people were navigating the floor with drinks in their hands, and Carol thought it a small miracle that no one in their chain wound up with booze spilled all over. Angie crossed the room as though she could just as easily do it blindfolded.

As they approached the bar, that man Carol thought she knew, small and delicate with tanned skin and dark hair, heaved himself over the countertop with surprising grace. He zeroed in on Angie, pulling her into a hug that forced her to let go of both Peggy and Therese.

"Angie! Darling, el corazón de mi corazón! You should have told me you were coming." He kissed both her cheeks.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” She kissed him back, on one cheek only. “You know how I like my entrances.”

“Obviously.” He whistled, gave her a little twirl that sent her dress spinning prettily. “Look at you! You’re showing off more than you’re not.”

“You know how it is. Got to show you what you’re missing out on, being so narrow-minded.”

“A lifetime of Catholic guilt hasn’t done that yet, but you just might, beautiful.”

Carol, fascinated and confused by every word of this exchange, almost didn’t hear Therese’s muttered, “I thought he taught dance.”

It clicked then. Jacob’s baptism, the gathering at the Martinelli house after. Angie’s very gay brother and the man he’d sat next to in the living room. “Wait, Georgie?” Carol asked, doing an uncharacteristically bad job of hiding her surprise.

Georgie, Jorge, technically, smiled at her. “Carolina, right? You look stunning as well. And—”

“Therese,” said Angie, giving Therese an affectionate squeeze. “Theresa if you ask Ma.”

“Of course I ask your mother. She’s right about everything.”

“You are such a suck up,” said Angie.

“Theresa is right too, like stunning Sofia. I do teach dance,” Georgie said. “Some nights. And I cook during the day because dancing don’t pay the bills. But other nights? How could I resist the fun here when I’m alone and sad, when mi beautiful Angel cannot be with me?"

“Georgie’s here a few nights a week, and when the other guy wants time off,” Angie said. “And don’t call my brother beautiful, he’s ugly as sin.”

“You’re twins,” said Georgie.

“Yeah, and I got looks. Now listen, Georgie.” Angie put an arm around his shoulders, easy when he was barely taller than her. “Are you listening?”

“Intently.”

“Okay. This is Carol and Therese’s first time here, and they’re like me, haven’t had a night out in ages. So we’ve got to take care of them. And that one,” Angie pointed at Therese, “we are going to get very, very drunk. Got it?”

Beaming in answer, Georgie hauled himself over the bar just as smoothly as before and started pulling bottles from the shelves.

“Why me?” Therese asked, taking the barstool Carol pulled out for her. “Why do you care so much if I get drunk?”

“Because it’s so easy to get you drunk, and so fun when it happens,” said Angie.

Therese looked at Carol.

“I, she’s not wrong, honey.”

Therese smiled, rolled her eyes, and asked Angie how frightened she should be.

“Aww quit. I’ve got your back, kid. Always.”

“Mmm. So, terrified then.”

Carol only-half heard Angie’s answer as Peggy took the stool on her other side, a smugly attractive smirk on her lips. “What the hell is this place?” Carol asked, eyes darting to take everything in. A black man and a white woman were getting cheers from the other dancers as they swung to the music.

“Do you remember my telling you about blue cards and undesirables?”

Carol had to think on it, but only for a moment. Blue cards. People discharged from the military for being the wrong color, for liking the wrong person. People Peggy had gone out of her way to recruit. “Yes…”

“Meet the undesirables. This is where they unwind.”

A gay club. At the least, a club where gays weren’t unwelcome. Frequented by secret agents, or whatever the title was for those who worked for Peggy. “You own this place?”

“Oh no. Howard and Betty co-own it, but Howard only comes in when he wants a drink. So, very frequently.”

Betty. The one who’d helped get Rindy out of the snow. The secret war hero who used to take apart bombs. “Betty owns this place?” She was repeating Peggy’s words, couldn’t help it.

“She wanted a place for her girlfriend to sing, and I needed another base for our operation. Mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“So, is it a club, or a hideout for secret agents?”

“It’s a lot of things. It functions perfectly well as either. Just whatever you do, avoid the ladies’ washroom in the northeast corner.”

“Out of order?”

“It’s where we keep the explosives.”

“What?”

“In case we’re found out. Scorched earth policy, you know.”

Carol stared.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. We warn people, right off.” Peggy pointed at the neon sign with the club’s name. “Anyway, it’ll be fine as long as no one gets too drunk to read the signs.”

Angie, the furthest from Peggy with Therese and Carol in between them, half shouted to be heard. “Quit screwing around, Peg, it’s not nice!”

“Yes, and you never ‘screw around.’”

“Not like that. Don’t be mean.”

“As you wish. My apologies, Carol. There are no explosives in the northeast corner of the building.”

“What about the other corners?” Carol asked.

“Drinks!” Angie declared as full glasses were set in front of each of them. Carol didn’t remember ordering the martini, but it was prepared just how she liked it. Peggy got what looked like bourbon. Angie and Therese’s drinks looked the same, though Carol hadn’t heard what Angie requested.

“What is it?” Therese asked, studying the contents of hers.

“It’s a Dear John,” Georgie replied. “Or Dear Jane, depending.”

“What’s in it?”

“Enough to make you forget about John or Jane. Think less, drink more!”

Georgie’s explanation had Carol cringing, remembering that letter she left for Therese in Chicago, but if Therese had similar thoughts, they weren’t showing. She sipped cautiously at the mixture, looked surprised, then took a healthier drink.

“This is really good.”

“Que?” Georgie beamed and bowed.

Angie was eyeing the dance floor with glinting, excited eyes when a new face edged through the crowd, a tall blonde Carol didn’t recognize.

“Well, well, well. The boss lady herself. Hello, Agent Carter.”

“Not the boss here, Lorraine, as you well know.” Peggy quirked her lips, sipped her bourbon. “But, it’s Director now, and you know that too.”

“Ah, but if you’re not on the clock, why not be Agent again, for old times’ sake? Buy me a drink?”

Peggy hummed. “Therese, Carol, this is Lorraine. She worked for our side during the war.”

“Oh come on, Peg. It wasn’t all work. But, we shouldn’t talk about that in front of Angie, should we?” She flashed Angie white teeth.

“Don’t stop on my account, hon, talk all you want.” Angie smiled, tasted her drink. “Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

“Really?” Lorraine asked.

“If it happened and it didn’t involve national security, I heard about it.” Angie stood, brought her drink with her as she moved next to Peggy. “Buy the girl a drink, Peg. Old times are important. Sometimes they’re all we have.”

“Indeed,” Peggy said, nodding for Georgie’s attention as he finished with another customer.

“I’m going to find us a table,” said Angie, slipping an arm around Peggy’s waist. “And then you owe me a dance, baby.”

“I’m certain I owe you several,” Peggy replied before letting Angie kiss her.

“Right then,” said Angie. “See you gals in a minute.”

Carol swore she saw an extra sway in Angie’s hips as she disappeared toward the booths.

Lorraine made small talk with them, all of it pleasant enough until her drink arrived. “I’ll let you get back to it,” she said then, clinking her glass with Peggy’s. “Sure I’ll catch you later though.”

“I’ve not a doubt that you will,” Peggy said amiably.

Lorraine flashed another dazzling smile. “Great to see you, Peg. We’ve missed you. What’s it been, three, four months since the baby? You look positively stunning.”

“Oh hush, I know. Have a lovely night, Lorraine.”

After, with the music playing and Peggy walking slightly ahead of them, leading the way to Angie and their table, Carol felt a tug on her wrist as Therese searched for her attention.

“So, were they—”

“Screwing,” Carol said before Therese could finish. “At least that woman wanted them to be.”

“Huh.”

She could hear Therese thinking, even with all the noise.

“The people who went off to fight, was everyone screwing everyone, do you think?” Therese asked.

“Yes,” Carol said promptly. She’d heard plenty of stories she wasn’t meant to about Harge’s Navy days.

* * *

Therese was flushed and grinning as she wound around the dance floor with Carol, Angie and Peggy nearby. Neither the drinks nor the pace of the music helped her coordination, but Therese didn’t care.

She was having fun.

Carol spun her and Angie took the chance to break away from Peggy, cut in. Therese laughed as Angie’s dress cut prettily through the charged air.

“Worth the trip?” Angie asked, her hands warm in Therese’s.

“Definitely!” Therese twirled Angie and they both giggled. She’d seen Angie dance onstage countless times, but this setting, this freedom from choreographed moves, made it different. “You’re way too good at this. No way I can keep up.”

“Oh quit, you’re doing great. You’ve really never been to a place like this before?”

“I don’t think there _is_ another place like this, Ange.”

“You know what I mean.”

She knew there were other clubs, for people like them, but she’d never known exactly where, or felt comfortable enough to visit. Too many visions of police raids, her name in the paper the next day for all the wrong reasons. Or strangers with no titles who found out what kind of establishment was in their neighborhood and decided they didn’t like it. She told Angie as much. “I guess you don’t have to worry about things like that.”

Angie smiled reassuringly, her cheeks colored from drinks and exertion. “Even if they got through the door, and that’s a _big_ if, most everyone in here is armed with something.”

“Is that true, Peggy?” Carol asked. When Angie stole her partner, Carol reciprocated, now stole a chance to touch the material of Peggy’s suit. “You have a gun in there somewhere?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Darling.”

The next song was slower and they switched partners again, Therese back in Carol’s arms while Peggy took hold of Angie. Therese had to remind herself, even surrounded by all these people doing the same, that she could hold Carol close, dance with her like Harge must have over and over, and not just within the confines of a living room.

Her stomach fluttered pleasantly.

“Carol?” she said, drunk off their nearness, the atmosphere, so many people just being themselves, being with who they wanted to be with. And the drinks themselves, those were helping her along as well.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Saying yes. Bringing us here.”

Carol pulled back, just barely. She kissed Therese, soft but lingering. They’d never kissed in front of so many people before. “Thank you for putting up with me. You deserve better than what you’ve had lately.”

Therese shook her head. She didn’t want more sadness, apologies. “So do you.” She was the one to initiate a kiss this time, but couldn’t hold it, couldn’t keep from smiling. “We’re here now. I’m glad we’re here now.”

“Me too, darling.”

“Carol?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve never seen anyone look so good in a suit. Ever.” She could see Peggy dancing from where her head rested near Carol’s collarbone.

“Jesus, I know.”

“Do you? You know what else?”

“What else?” Carol asked and Therese could hear her smile.

“You’re still the prettiest person in this whole place.” The alliteration stumbled between her brain and her lips, but the facts were there.

Carol laughed, hands on Therese’s shoulders to ease her back. She pretended to squint into Therese’s eyes. “The lighting in here must not agree with you. Your sight is going.”

It wasn’t though. Therese saw perfectly fine how Carol was smiling.

* * *

The night went on. Carol went away to get more drinks while the others waited at their booth, rested. What they were supposed to be doing anyway, until Lorraine reappeared, dragged Peggy back to the dance floor.

“I’m sitting this one out,” she’d tried to protest.

“Oh come on. Agent Peggy Carter doesn’t sit out. Get your ass up, don’t be an old lady.”

Angie waved them both to go ahead, and now Therese sat next to her while they watched Peggy and Lorraine dance.

“Aren’t you jealous?” Therese asked.

“Of what, that?” Lorraine’s hands were much lower on Peggy’s body than Carol’s had been when she and Peggy danced.

“So, you’re not jealous then.”

Angie sipped from what little remained of her drink. “Of Lorraine? God no. I like her, actually. She’s kind of a shit, but I like her. I got all the green-eyed monster out of my system long ago.”

“How?”

“Honey, the only one I’ve ever had to be jealous of where Peg’s concerned? He’s mine too. Lorraine’s got nothing on Steve Rogers, and both of them are going to bed with me tonight. She can look, and she can even touch a little bit, but I’m the one leaving here with the prizes.”

Angie grinned like the Cheshire Cat and Therese couldn’t help returning it.

“Jealousy’s an ugly feeling anyway, Shutter. Literally, gives you wrinkles from frowning and making too many pinchy faces. Not worth it.”

“It’s not, huh?”

“Not for people like us, who already won. Oh hey,” Angie said suddenly, looking over her shoulder and raising her hand to flag someone down. “Sam. Sammy! Therese, this guy Sam, he runs this underground newspaper out of the Village, you guys should talk.”

* * *

Carol stood with a drink in each hand and a frown on her face.

She’d met many people tonight, lost track of and regrouped with Angie and Peggy several times. And Therese, who always begged off Abby’s summer soirees, was quite the social butterfly as well. Every time Carol stepped away, or even looked away for too long, someone who was probably a United States employee had Therese’s ear. Though they weren’t all spies, it was more about knowing someone who knew about the place, securing the invite.

Everyone, it seemed, wanted to know Therese. Which Carol was sympathetic to and understood completely, especially with Therese in that dress.

Understanding and approval were not the same thing, even if it was quite something to see Therese come out of her shell.

Angie and Peggy had retreated to the booth and were pressed close together. Therese was leaning against a table while a jukebox played. The band and the pretty redhead singer Carol had noticed earlier were on break. Were supposed to be anyway. The pretty redhead singer was now pressed against the same table as Therese, laughing.

Carol moved forward smoothly, the drinks in hand.

“In the Mood” was playing, but not Glenn Miller’s version. As Carol approached, she heard the redhead singing along to the lyrics.

“How’s about a corner with a table for two? Where the music's mellow and some gay rendezvous! There's no chance romancin' with a blue attitude! You've got to do some dancin' to get in the mood!”

She accompanied the end of each sentence with a snap of her fingers and a little sashay of the hips. She had a nice voice, a nice dress that complimented her hair. Carol rolled her eyes behind the woman’s back. “Your refill, mademoiselle,” she said, taking her place next to Therese.

“Carol!” Therese positively glowed. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” Handing Therese her drink, Carol placed her now free hand at the small of Therese’s back.

“Carol, this is Miss Andrews. She’s a professional singer. Isn’t that something?”

“Well, so is Angie,” Carol said. “Hello.”

The redhead smiled. “Oh, I’m no Angela Martin, probably never will be, but I like it here. I know everyone, I get to meet the ones I don’t know, it’s nice.”

“I’m sure,” said Carol, rubbing circles into Therese’s back.

A man’s voice shouted from somewhere in the distance. “Hey Kate! Get a move on, girl, we need you in five minutes!”

“Cool off, Pete. What would the boss say if she heard you talking to me like that?”

“What would she say if she saw you makin’ eyes at the customers like that?”

“She’s the one who taught me how to make eyes like that!” Kate shouted back with a laugh. She returned her attention to Carol and Therese. “Looks like that’s my cue.”

“Oh, really? What a shame,” said Carol.

“Any special requests while I’m up there?”

“’Easy Living,’” Therese said, before Carol could decline. “Do you know it?”

“Of course. It’s a classic.” Kate flashed another smile. “First on my list. You two have fun.”

Therese said it was nice meeting her. Carol hummed.

When they were alone in the crowd, Therese took a long drink from her cocktail, wrapped her free arm around Carol. “Dance with me.”

Carol chuckled, took Therese’s drink and set it on the table with her own. “Are you certain you have the time?” Therese looked adorably confused and Carol pulled her in close, less dancing than swaying in place. “You’ve made a few friends.”

Therese beamed. “God, Carol. There are so many interesting people here.”

Carol hummed again. “Like professional singers.”

Therese looked at her, stopped swaying. “Are you jealous?”

“Of course not.”

Therese laughed with her whole face, showing her dimples. “You are, you’re jealous!”

“I do believe you’ve had too many Dear Janes.”

At Carol’s urging, Therese danced again, but the grin held firm. “You were jealous of her.”

“What for? She’s off-key.”

“Uh-huh.” Therese leaned in, kissed her. “So you won’t mind if I walk a bit until our song comes on? There were a few more people Angie wanted me to meet.”

“I did think,” Carol tightened her hold on Therese’s waist, pulled her closer, “that you were meant to be mine for the night. Anyway, Angie’s a little busy.” She moved them so Therese had a better view of Peggy and Angie’s booth. Angie’s hands were quite occupied with Peggy’s lapels.

Therese giggled, wrapped her arms around Carol’s neck. “Oh well, I don’t need an escort.”

“I should hope not. You have one,” Carol replied, enjoying the feel of Therese’s body under the soft material of the dress. “I’d think, Miss Belivet, if I didn’t know any better, that you’d _like_ me to be jealous.”

“Would you? Where would you get that idea?”

“So you don’t like it? You’re not searching out people for me to be jealous of?” Carol let her hand go lower, just above the curve of Therese’s ass. Squeezed.

Therese stood on tiptoe in her heels, spoke into Carol’s ear. “Maybe I like you setting those people straight.”

“Oh baby.” Carol turned her head to kiss Therese again. “The only things straight in this building are the table legs.” Carol paused. “And Peggy’s hair.”

Therese laughed until it seemed she might cry, gripping Carol for balance. “You know what I think?” she said afterward.

“Hardly ever. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

“I think,” Therese leaned in close, pressed her lips deep and lingering to Carol’s, “that there’s a roomful of people here and I can kiss you as much as I want.”

Carol tightened her grip on Therese’s waist, kissed her again. “You always see everything, don’t you? Everything I don’t.”

“Maybe. What do you see now?”

Dimples. Flushed skin. A smile that went to the eyes and beyond. “The most beautiful woman in the room. Always.”

Therese brushed Carol’s smudged lipstick with her thumb. “You know what else I think?”

“Tell me.”

“I think that I don’t want to kiss you in front of all these people anymore.”

Carol tilted her head. “No? That’s very disappointing.”

“No,” Therese said firmly. “I think we should get out of here.”

Carol laughed. “I think, my dear, that you’ve definitely had one too many of John or Jane or whoever. We came in Peggy’s car, remember?”

“You seem very concerned with the number of Johns or Janes I’ve had.” Therese’s nails skimmed along the back of Carol’s neck, tugged her head down close. “When you know I only want you. You wouldn’t let a few drinks get me in trouble. Would you?”

Carol was too hot and getting gooseflesh all at once. Her neck tingled where Therese touched it. She felt all the places Therese wasn’t touching a thousand times more. “Angel, I would love nothing more than to get you in trouble.” And she knew it. Therese knew exactly what she was doing.

Damn this woman.

Bless her.

“So do it then.” Therese teased, taunted, traced her fingers over Carol’s sleeves. “Get me in trouble.”

“Honey, I know things are, different here, but I’m not upstaging that Andrews girl by putting on a show for all of Peggy’s employees. She’ll have enough trouble getting people to care about her singing.”

“It’s a secret club with a secret passageway, run by spies. You don’t think there are secret rooms we can slip into? Let’s go look for secret rooms.”

“I think that’s a terrible idea,” Carol said, laughing. She picked up her drink, kept an arm around Therese.

“Come on.” Therese stood tall as she could, breathed into Carol’s ear. “You don’t want to fuck me in the secret room of the secret club?”

Carol nearly spit her drink all over Therese, fumbling with the glass as she choked. Therese was nothing but amused by this. “Christ,” Carol coughed, tears threatening to edge into her vision and ruin carefully applied makeup. “Angie has had a horrendous influence on you.”

“No more than Abby. Is that a no, then?”

Applause and cheers broke out. The Andrews girl was taking the stage again. And Therese, Therese was warm and beautiful and sexy and _looking_ at her in a way that just wasn’t fair. Especially for someone who wasn’t touching her. Carol put her barely touched drink on the table.

“Let’s go,” she said, leaving no room for argument, guiding Therese through the crowd.

As Kate sang the first notes of ‘Easy Living,’ they were already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts, or just to hear from you guys. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined.
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, friends. So yeah, life did that thing it does where it suddenly decides it has to suck, and sucked away most of my creative energy with it. But, back now, doing what I can to get this going again. Shorter chapter by my standards, but hey, it’s porn, so there’s that. If you’re still around, I thank you, and would thank you even more for comments.
> 
> I split the chapter for my own sanity, so the other couple in our date night will be around next time. The song playing during the scene is Anything Goes, by Cole Porter.

They did not find any secret rooms. Wouldn’t be a very good spy hideout, Carol admitted, if two not entirely sober women who’d never stepped foot in here before tonight could uncover the secrets.

They did, however, find a ladies’ room. Carol frowned and squinted at the sign proclaiming it such. “What side of the building are we on?”

“What?” Therese giggled, her arms wrapped around Carol’s waist, stealing kisses like the horny, impatient teenager she’d only become after meeting Carol, when her teenage years were nearly over.

“Where are we in the building, what corner?” Which one had Peggy joked about being rigged to explode? Southeast? Southwest? No Out of Order sign, so it should be alright. Probably.

“I have no idea. I don’t usually bring my compass along when we go out.”

Smartass, when all Carol was trying to do was keep them from being killed and accidentally killing everyone here. “Maybe one of us should, the next time we go out with Peggy and Angie.”

“Okay, sounds good,” Therese said agreeably. She then squeezed Carol’s ass, raking her short nails over the fabric of the dress.

Fuck it. Carol checked the hallway around them before dragging Therese with one hand, turning the doorknob with the other.

Worth the risk.

The bathroom was clean and spacious and empty, Mercifully empty, at least as far as she could tell. The stalls went floor to ceiling, no legs sticking out anywhere, so it was harder to judge. Carol couldn’t imagine the two of them being the only patrons who got up to things in here, especially considering how affectionate most people were on the dance floor, with hundreds of witnesses.

Oh well. If anyone else was occupying this room the same way Carol and Therese were about to, the other parties were being quiet about it, which was more than enough for Carol.

“They’re so high,” Therese said with wide-eyed awe, as though she were looking at one of the Seven Wonders and not a bathroom stall.

Carol hummed, set about removing the gloves that went with her dress. “It’s a European thing,” she said, distracted. She’d seen plenty like this when she was younger than Therese, the summer she and Abby went off galivanting, before Europe stopped being such an ideal vacation spot.

“You are so smart,” Therese said, grinning. “My Carol. You know everything about traveling.”

Carol chuckled. It was taking longer than it should to remove her second glove, and it was all the fault of the beautiful woman pawing at her. “Not everything.”

“Everything,” Therese insisted, firm. She looked around. “Do European bathrooms have couches?”

“Some. Not this one, it seems.”

“Oh. We should go to Europe. Would you take me to Europe? Can we go to Europe, Carol?”

“Absolutely,” Carol said, finally tossing her glove on the counter by the sink. She kissed Therese hard. “But first, let’s go to one of those stalls.”

“Just don’t leave those behind after,” Therese said nodding at the gloves. “Laying around for some strange woman to find.”

“It was one time. Once. No need for a repeat when I’ve already found my strange woman,” Carol grumbled, pulling Therese away from the sinks. Angie always found the glove thing hilarious for some reason. Which was something, coming from a woman whose best play had been cheap Schnapps and day-old pie.

“It’s so big,” Therese said when they’d found a stall and locked it behind them. “Why do you think they made it so big?”

“Probably so people could do exactly what we’re doing now,” Carol said, pinning Therese to the wall and kissing over her neck. She was rewarded with a contented moan, one she felt reverberate through Therese’s throat. It made the tingling in other parts of her own body more pronounced.

Therese stood on tiptoes, taking Carol’s face in her hands, holding it still for easier access. “You’re too tall,” she complained, nipping at Carol’s jaw. “Why are you wearing heels?”

“You are too. We match.” Carol spared a brief glance at Therese’s shoes before finding more interesting sights up above.

“We don’t. You’re too tall. You’re always too tall.”

“I can’t help it if you’re tiny, darling,” Carol argued, putting a hand on either of Therese’s thighs.

“Not tiny, you’re just tall, then you make yourself taller. Not fair.” Therese cupped Carol’s ass, pinched the left side.

Carol hissed. Was that supposed to be a reprimand? Quite enjoyable either way. “You love me in heels,” she stated, parting Therese’s legs wider, scratching her nails over the delicate flesh of her inner thighs. “You watch me when I wear them. Did you think I hadn’t noticed?”

“I always watch you,” said Therese, taking longer than usual to get the words out because she kept kissing Carol between them, her tongue darting over and over against Carol’s lips, past them. “Impossible not to.” Therese’s arms joined behind Carol’s neck, grasping.

“Many would disagree. You, however, are gorgeous.” Carol took a quick moment to stroke her fingers over Therese’s underwear, was even quicker in pulling them down and out of the way.

Therese gasped, shivered at the cool air hitting newly exposed flesh. “ _Oh_. Carol.”

“Darling.” Carol was distracted again by the wet warmth that instantly coated her fingers. "Therese."

“I was watching you, like you said,” Therese replied. She squeezed the back of Carol’s neck. Nipped at Carol’s jaw again. “Carol.”

“What?” Carol held her palm over Therese, pressed down without the cloth barrier between them.

Therese jerked, her hips pressing forward toward Carol’s hand. “Carol!”

“What?” Carol repeated, rubbing over Therese’s clit with quick, practiced movements, rough circles that made Therese squirm and Carol place her free arm around her.

“The only people who wouldn’t want to watch you are the ones like Georgie and Angelo, the ones who really don’t like girls. And I bet even they’d watch you.”

“You’re sweet.” Carol pecked her lips to prove it. “I need to do this a little fast, alright?” she asked, holding Therese’s gaze. Easy going as this place was, Carol didn’t relish being walked in on.

“Good,” Therese said, kissing Carol much harder, much rougher than what Carol had just done.

Carol, for some reason, had a fevered flash of this same girl a few years ago, casually requesting the presidential suite when Carol had already asked for two rooms.

Well then. “Hold tight, darling.”

“Wha—”

Carol kissed the question away, lifting Therese off the ground, back still pressed to the wall. Therese shrieked, her legs wrapping themselves tight around Carol’s hips. “Hush,” said Carol, keeping Therese pinned to the wall with her body weight, and one arm. Her other arm went between them, fingers pressing against Therese. “No more complaining about height?”

Therese stared at her with wide, wide eyes, only shook her head until Carol rubbed teasing fingers over her clit again. ‘No! _God_.” Therese shuddered. “No complaining at all.”

“Good.”

Carol held her palm over Therese, pressing and then backing off from her clit so Therese had to rock against her, search for the pressure. She did it quickly, barely seconds between movements, but Therese chased her hand every time, making choked off, desperate sounds into Carol’s mouth. Two of Carol’s fingers slipped inside with ease, making them both groan.

“You’re magnificent,” Carol declared, breaking hurried kisses to whisper in Therese’s ear, very aware of Therese’s body pushing and pulling against hers, Therese’s walls, wet and warm, trying to bring her fingers in deeper. “That’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Therese made another strained, beautiful little noise, then yanked Carol into a kiss. Carol smiled into it, curving her fingers inside at the same moment. Therese was so quiet normally, so drawn into her own head. It still surprised and delighted Carol every time, how Therese was just the opposite in bed. She let herself be heard without hesitation, did so even on their first night together. Nothing hidden or held back, Carol never had to guess what she was thinking. The answers were all over her face, in every sound and movement, and they were perfect to Carol, always.

It shouldn’t turn her on as much as it did, watching Therese when they had to be quiet. Therese’s sighs and shivers, the pull of her muscles, everything seemed so much more intense when Therese was trying to keep some modicum of control.

Carol loved Therese screaming out her name, but she loved it just as much when Therese was trying not to. She loved Therese, that was all. So much so that she’d give up all the air in her lungs for Therese, without a thought. She was doing that right now, in fact, letting Therese kiss all her sounds into Carol’s mouth, with little regard for oxygen.

Did Therese have better lung capacity, fewer years spent with cigarettes? Had Carol ever kissed anyone like that, as if the kiss were more important than the air? She didn’t know the answer to the first question, didn’t have to think about the second. Fortunate, since thinking wasn’t her strong suit at the moment.

Therese broke the kiss, finally, hid her face in Carol’s neck. Her lips tickled the skin there and Carol might have felt words, but couldn’t be bothered to decipher them. She didn’t need them now.

Carol made fast, shallow thrusts, her thumb never leaving the bundle of nerves at Therese’s center. Her arm ached from holding Therese steady against the wall while trying to make her come apart. Carol barely felt the strain. The room was charged, vibrating with the electricity between them.

No, Carol realized. Not them, it was the music, seeping in through the walls to follow them here. It was loud as hell, and somehow Carol had gone all this time without realizing. The singer, Carol couldn’t be bothered with her name, was on a roll about curses, stockings, and bare limbs, and Carol smiled into Therese’s mouth as a much more enticing pair of legs squeezed her waist. It was a good song, Carol had always thought so. She’d enjoy it even more, after this.

Therese shuddered everywhere, into Carol’s mouth, onto her fingers. The walls and floor continued their faint vibrations as Therese rode Carol’s hand through the shocks. Carol kissed her face, her hair, quite smug with herself.

“Can you stand?” she asked after a bit.

Therese smiled lazily, let her head loll against Carol’s shoulder. “Not with your hand where it is.”

Carol let out a surprised laugh. Her mission to fuck Therese senseless may’ve succeeded, but the cheekiness remained. Holding her lips against Therese’s forehead, Carol eased her fingers free, caught Therese as she groaned and sank further into their embrace. “Better?” Carol teased.

Therese hummed, kept a tight grip on Carol’s shoulders as she regained her footing. “Wouldn’t say ‘better.’ It felt nice where it was.”

Carol chuckled low in her throat. “I’m sure it did. Next time I’ll be sure to linger.”

Therese was a flushed mess. Carol couldn’t imagine the mirror outside showing her to be any better. She couldn’t bring herself to care, not after what she’d just brought Therese to. She helped Therese with her underwear, with straightening her clothes, more grateful than ever for the extra space here. She wiped her hands (there were some advantages to screwing in a bathroom) moved to unlock the stall, but Therese’s hand gripped her elbow.

“Hey, hey, what’s this?” Therese asked, tugging lightly.

“We’re going to be missed,” Carol replied, bemused.

“But we’re not done yet. Don’t be selfish.”

Carol chuckled again. “Selfish? Honey, I got _you_ off.”

“And I’ve barely gotten to touch you.”

Clean as the place was, there wasn’t enough space to splay herself out on the floor, even if she’d wanted to. “You’re a bit short to get me up against a wall like that. And a bit unsteady,” Carol added, placing a hand against Therese’s hip as she tottered slightly.

Therese huffed out a breath. “That’s from you, not the drinks.”

“As gratifying as that is, darling, and it truly, truly is—”

“Are you challenging me?”

She hadn’t been, not remotely, but the look in Therese’s eyes was intriguing. “What if I were?”

Therese’s answer, quite unexpectedly, was to shove Carol back against the wall and drop to her knees.

“Unsteady,” she mumbled, lifting Carol’s dress. “I’ll show you unsteady.”

Carol’s shock was not all helped by Therese pinching playfully at a sensitive spot behind her knee. Carol cursed, her head thudding back against the stall. “Christ. Are you serious?”

“Uh-huh,” Therese said, cheerful as she squeezed Carol’s hips, found the waistband of her underwear.

“You’re going to be sore as hell tomorrow,” Carol warmed, dazed as she watched Therese’s bare knees shift on the hard floor.

“So? I was going to be sore anyway,” Therese said, wearing a filthy grin. “Hold tight.”

“To what?” Carol asked, sounding slightly hysterical to her own ears as she felt along the smooth confines of the stall.

Jesus Christ, what had those Janes done to Therese?

Therese shrugged, flashed that sinful grin again, shoved Carol’s legs apart.

With no other options, Carol put her hands in Therese’s hair. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Therese looked at her like she’d said something absurd. “I know. I want to. A lot.”

Anything else Carol might’ve said on the subject was driven out of her head by the first press of Therese’s tongue against her clit. The song—Jesus, what’s-her-name singer must be doing an encore—still played.

Carol, in a truly rare moment, prayed as Therese’s mouth latched on.

Thank God. Thank Christ she hadn’t skipped this in favor of Hitchcock and TV trays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, 5 years ago while binging The L Word: What is it with all these lesbians fucking in bathrooms? Why are they always, always fucking in bathrooms?
> 
> Me a few months ago: Well fuck, I guess I have to make these lesbians fuck in the bathroom.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed the holiday season, whatever that means for you. Hope everyone got at least one viewing in of Carol, aka the greatest Christmas film ever produced. Anyway, new year, new chapter, comments and kudos make the author happy, you know the drill by now, get to reading :)

“Well that took longer than I expected,” said Angie as they watched their friends abandon them.

“Did it?” Peggy asked. “Drink please, love?”

Angie lifted a glass from the table, brought it to Peggy’s lips. “What am I, your waitress again?”

Peggy swallowed, shook her head. “Hardly. I never treated any of my waitresses so well. Except possibly this young thing from a pub in London.”

“You’re such an ass.”

“What? Her workplace had just been blown up. It seemed the least I could do.”

“Yeah, yeah. Least you could do is get your own damn drinks.”

“I could. But my hands are rather occupied at the moment, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I hadn’t. You’re not nearly as good as you think you are.”

Peggy huffed. Her hand traveled low, pinching Angie’s ass hard enough to make her jump, elicit a very undignified noise. “You, however are quite smooth indeed. What were you saying about Carol and Therese?”

Angie had to think about it. She was moderately drunk and a little naked. Her feet were bare, shoes abandoned somewhere on the floor below. The table and its cloth did a decent job of hiding that she was sitting in Peggy’s lap, her own lap covered by Peggy’s dark suit jacket. “I thought Shutter and Jersey would ditch us twenty minutes ago.”

“Thought, or wanted them to?” Peggy had one arm wrapped around Angie’s waist. Her other hand remained much lower, nowhere it should be in a public setting.

Angie squirmed against Peggy’s legs, adjusting. “Not so hard next time, baby.”

“I’m sorry.” Peggy’s lips landed in Angie’s hair. “Shall I kiss it better?”

“Honey, the underwear trick is good,” Angie patted Peggy’s jacket over her legs, felt around the soft material, frowned. “Babe, did you lose my undies?”

“That was you, darling. Other pocket.”

Angie checked the other pocket, found the slight bunch of fabric that was her missing underthings. Which were stolen, definitely not lost. “Oh. Well it’s a good trick, you got some good fingers on you—”

“How kind of you to notice.”

“—but not even you can kiss my slightly bruised ass in a club full of super spies without anyone knowing.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“You think everything’s a challenge when you’ve had a few.”

“Mmm. Am I right in this case?”

Angie was considering the question when a walking, talking mood kill approached out of the crowds. “Shit. Lorraine, three o’ clock.”

Peggy looked. “That’s not three.”

“Whatever.” Whatever time she was, she was still in the club, and coming up fast. Like a nuke, coordinates set and primed to ruin a perfectly good night.

Sighing deeply, Angie began the arduous task of rearranging herself, sitting like a proper lady, and generally hiding the fact she was buck ass nude under her beautiful, flowy dress. That was the plan, anyway, until Peggy grabbed her by the hips midway through it, stalling her. Before she could ask what was going on in Peg’s mind, Angie found herself straddling Peg’s knee, her back to Peggy’s front as Peggy held her steady. She had not yet retrieved her underwear.

“What are you doing?” Angie asked. Her beautiful, flowy dress was bunched up around her waist and she grabbed for Peggy’s jacket to cover herself. Her underwear was somewhere in the pockets, but she could hardly put them on with Peggy’s 106 one-armed push-ups arm keeping her there.

“What? Aren’t you comfortable?”

Her privates were flush against Peggy’s suit pants. “That’s one word.”

“Well then,” Peggy said as if that were that. She nuzzled lazily at Angie’s cheek, the back of her neck. “In any case, if you like your seat, I suggest you keep it, or Lorraine’s liable to swoop in and take it over.”

As if. Angie would kill Lorraine and Peggy both first, but didn’t have time to dwell on this with Lorraine only steps away. She held the jacket over herself as best she could, turned her head to glare at Peggy. “I’ll get you back for this.”

“Darling, I’m counting on it.”

Lorraine was there then, all smiles and legs as she stopped in front of their table. “Hey you two. Having a nice time?”

“Marvelous,” Peggy said without missing a beat. “And you, Lorraine?”

“Oh, I’m on my way out, but I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“What a shame,” said Angie, without making clear whether the first or second bit was shameful.

Lorraine said something in response, but it went over Angie’s head. Over her head because Peggy’s hand had lodged itself under the jacket, her fingernails ghosting, almost tickling, along Angie’s bare thighs. She jolted a little, more aware than ever of Peggy’s leg pressed firmly against her.

“You alright there, Ange?”

Lorraine. Damn it. “Fine. Had an itch.”

“An itch?” Peggy replied. “Shall I help you with it, darling?”

“No, I got it, you’ve helped plenty.”

Peggy hummed, chin resting on Angie’s shoulder. “I’m right here if you change your mind.”

As if Angie didn’t know exactly where she was, where her hand was. Cupping the place Angie’s stolen panties should be. Angie shifted, which she should’ve known was a terrible idea, just made things worse. Better, sort of, but very, very worse. Lorraine said something that Angie really couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to, and then she was sliding into their booth.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

“Oh, you’re sitting down,” Angie said. “Great. That’s what people usually do on their way out.”

"A way out can be a long way 'round. That much I learned in the war. I wanted to stop and talk with my favorite agent first."

She was teasing. It was annoying as hell. At least she’d stayed at the end of the curved booth, making it slightly less likely she’d catch Peggy in the act of rubbing her palm all over Angie’s crotch.

"Really? I thought Agent Downing was your favorite?" Peggy gave no indication that she was in fact rubbing her palm all over Angie’s crotch.

"Oh, she's fabulous, but she's not my favorite. How much have you kept up on with Stark's side ventures?"

Angie stopped keeping up with the conversation for a time. She tried squeezing her legs together, but all that did was make it easier for Peggy to push her thigh up, in. It would be Peggy’s own fault, then, that her jacket would be a crumpled, wrinkly mess. Angie kept the fingers of one hand curled into it, clenching and unclenching. Her other hand found Peggy’s forearm under the table. The Morse Code was supposed to be for emergencies, like if Angie were kidnapped and couldn’t speak up.

Peggy had created her own damn emergency this time.

Angie kissed the side of Peggy’s mouth, bit it just a little. Called Peggy a demented twit for doing this, trying to make her lose it in front of fucking Lorraine, fingers dancing against the back of Peggy's arm as quickly as she could speak aloud.

Peggy kissed the side of Angie head, said something to Lorraine. The fingers that had pinched her ass before now traced it with the tip of a nail instead, a series of tickling dots and dashes that almost made her squirm again.

_I’ve gotten off in a tent full of men, and no one was the wiser. Ask Steve._

Wishing she still had her heels, Angie kicked her foot back as far as she could. _That was war time, you filthy savage. You’re British, you went to finishing school, you’re supposed to be better than this._

Peggy pinched Angie’s ass again, roughly the same place, opposite side.  _Finishing school. Where do you think I learned how to finish in a roomful of people without getting caught?_

“You sure you’re okay, Angie?”

Angie blinked, realized she’d moved noticeably when Peggy grabbed her again. “I have to pee.”

“Ah. You’re a big girl, aren’t you, you can handle that on your own. Otherwise I’m sure Agent Downing over there would escort you.”

“I’m fine here.” She couldn’t move without making it clear that Peggy was seconds away from fingering her under the table. “Wouldn’t want to miss a second of your riveting conversational skills. What were you saying again?”

Lorraine chuckled. “Stark’s new superhero movie. The casting call’s very interesting. Right, Peg?”

Peggy shrugged. “Howard knows my opinion on the subject. A film based on a comic book? Dreadful idea. I told him in ’47, I’d tell him again if I thought it would make a difference.”

"Come on, Peg, it’s a new decade. What about that Superman show, that’s huge. What do you think, Angie?”

“TV and pictures are different animals,” Angie said. She was hot from dancing, from her crazy dance partner. Peggy’s trousers felt cool against her pussy. “Might figure that out if you stay in the business more than five minutes. Nobody wants to pay money for a guy with a rope tied to him diving onto a mattress and calling it flying.”

“They pay money to see you with a rope tied around you, calling it flying.”

“That’s a harness, not a rope. All your experience with them, I’d think you’d know the difference.”

“Don’t mind Angie,” Peggy said. “She’s a bit frustrated with that show. Some days it’s all Lizzie lets us watch.”

As she spoke, Peggy fingers circled teasingly around Angie’s entrance. “Yeah, that’s it, I’m just frustrated.”

“Who knows,” Peggy continued. “I’ve been wrong before—”

“Lies, I don’t believe it.”

“Maybe the world is ready for a female superhero,” Peggy added, ignoring Lorraine’s interruption.

"I could be the next Whitney Frost,” said Lorraine, striking as much of a pose as she could while sitting down.  "With less insanity, of course."

"That's debatable," Angie muttered, though it came out breathier than she’d wanted.

"How many is he looking for anyway?" Peggy asked.

"Three leads for this one. Gal American, gal German, gal Italian. At least looks-wise. I could fake an accent with the best of them. Do you know how many times I was German in the war?"

"Almost as many as me."

"It's meant to be heroes. Big strong women saving the world same as any man. Or better than. I don't know how Howard got the rights, but the comics are pretty neat. Honestly I'd prefer them to Wonder Woman and all that nonsense."

"Oh, the woman in practically nothing is now 'nonsense'? I vividly remember the idolization over that lasso--"

"Which is neither here nor there. If he follows the comics, and I get the American role, I’d get to wear a thigh holster."

"You get to wear one now."

"Yes, but very few people get to see my thigh holster now, it's sad, and pathetic."

"Can’t be any worse than your love life.” Angie was close enough to Peggy’s ear that she considered cursing at her in Italian, but the way she was now, she could hardly keep her knees from hitting the table, much less her languages straight.

"It's amazing, and I get to audition. I could be a hero. I watched the 107th for years doing just that.”

"You were a hero too,” said Peggy.

"No. I was a spy, and a secretary. My work didn't involve gun battles or facing down ticking explosives like you or Bombshell did."

"Doesn't make you any less of one than us."

"Eh. Either way, I'm pretty sure I can fake my way through some heroic feats."

"You've faked your way through worse,” said Angie. The hand not covering what remained of her modesty played with the ends of Peggy’s hair. Tugged, really. Hopefully too roughly.

“Oh hey, your friends are back.”

Angie was vaguely aware of Lorraine turning in the booth to wave at Carol and Therese. “Make her go away,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Which ‘her?’”

“All of them, preferably.”

Peggy laughed. Of course she did, she was an asshole. To keep herself from coming all over Peggy’s leg, Angie tried focusing on Therese’s hair, and how it wasn’t as perfectly done as when she and Carol left. Angie knew sex hair when she saw it.

Everyone else was getting off, while she had to sit on Peggy’s lap and suffer. God was being awfully cruel to her tonight.

Lorraine and Peggy greeted Carol and Therese and oh, lovely, more people joining them in the booth. “Make sure Lorraine gets the end spot,” Angie said. “She’s on her way out.”

If someone was going to see her naked ass in this booth, better Carol or Therese than that bitch Lorraine. Who was, of course, blabbing her face off again, and Therese was asking questions about what Lorraine did during the war, and sometimes Therese was much too curious about things.

“Mmm.” Peggy kissed Angie’s cheek as the band played a slow tune. “Oh, this won’t do. It’s supposed to be a party, damn it. Therese, darling? Would you mind going up there when this one’s done, asking for something with a little kick to it?”

‘Kick’ was accompanied with a jerk of Peggy’s leg that had Angie jamming her legs together as though they were gripping a bronco.

“Sure.” Therese was closest to the end, aside from Lorraine, with Lorraine on one side, Carol on the other. “Anything in particular?”

“ _Boogie Man_ , perhaps? Something we can really bounce our knees to.”

In demonstration, Peggy bounced her knee right into Angie’s clit. Several times.

Carol huffed, placed a possessive arm across Therese’s shoulders. “Lorraine’s closer, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

Peggy smirked. “You just don’t want your Therese anywhere near our Kate, is that it?”

Carol rolled her eyes, accepted Therese’s offer of a cigarette, let Therese light it for her. “You can have your Kate, thanks very much.”

“Jealousy isn’t a very becoming color on you, Carolyn.”

“I disagree,” said Therese, running a hand along Carol’s arm, the dark green of her dress.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Lorraine asked, good-natured, amused.

“Sorry?”

“We saw you two slip away. I’m a little jealous.”

Therese turned red and stammered, hiding her face in Carol’s shoulder.

Carol looked down at her. “Really? Now you blush?”

Peggy snorted out a laugh, which conveniently caused her leg to move. Angie swore to herself in Italian.

“What was that, Ange?” Lorraine asked.

“I said look what you did, Lo, you traumatized the young one. How about you go get that song playing? Before you leave.”

“Okay, okay. I can take a hint.”

“Yeah? My great-aunt breeds dogs. Always saying you can’t teach an old bitch new tricks. I’ll be sure to correct her.”

“Angie!” Therese was laughing and horrified, and seemed to be drinking from Peggy’s glass.

“Don’t mind her. We adore each other, don’t we, Ange?”

“Your Christmas card’s in the mail,” Angie promised. It was March.

Saying her goodbyes to Carol and Therese, Lorraine saved Peggy for last. “I’ll speak to the band before I go. Anything for you, boss.”

“Keep that attitude when Howard drops his pants, and you might actually get that part,” Angie said.

“You’re the showbiz whiz, you’d know all about that, Angie dear.”

Lorraine flashed the smile she probably used in her headshots and turned on her heel. For a second, Angie thought the danger had passed. She might lose it in a crowded club with Carol sitting inches away, but at least Lorraine wouldn’t see. But Lorraine turned again. Of course she did.

“Oh hey, Carter?”

“Lorraine?”

“I thought you were right-handed.”

“I’m ambidextrous, when the occasion calls for it.”

“Ah. A woman of endless talents. Well, you ladies enjoy the rest of your night.”

Lorraine left, melted into the crowd on her way toward the stage. Angie felt herself going as red as Therese, and goddamn if that wasn’t frustrating. Peggy shifted her knee again, forcing Angie to let out a noise that didn’t help anything.

“Angie,” said Carol, calm and measured but with red lips curved as she dragged from her cigarette, “are you okay?”

“It’s the smoke. Never better.”

Carol hummed. “Peggy, where’s your hand?”

Peggy was cheerful as she let go of Angie’s hip, raised her right hand in a wave. Her left stayed where it was, flat against Angie’s clit. The tips of two fingers were very perilously placed, just barely inside of Angie.

Therese stared confusedly, then her eyes went wide. “Oh. _Oh_.”

Her blush was ridiculous, as if she was the one burning up. “Oh shut up, Shutter.” Angie squirmed, doing her best not to ride Peggy’s leg or fingers now that she’d been caught out.

Rather than shutting up, Therese giggled madly, only half-bothering to stifle it against Carol as tears threatened to ruin her mascara. “That woman, Lorraine, she knew the whole time.”

“The hell with Lorraine.”

“I thought you weren’t jealous of her?”

“Not jealous, extremely annoyed. And horny.”

Therese laughed so hard at that she snorted, and might’ve fallen out of Lorraine’s recently vacated side of the booth if Carol hadn’t caught her.

“And on that note,” said Carol, “I’d say it’s time to leave.”

“Sick of the drunkards?” Peggy asked.

“Sick of the heels.”

“Me too,” said Angie. “Need to find mine,” she added, bare feet searching under the table.

“Is that the only thing you need to do?”

“Bite me, Aird.”

Carol smiled. “Two people isn’t enough to do that for you? Who’s driving?”

It was decided that Peggy would, She’d had the least to drink, which made her behavior all the more crazy. Still, she remained one of the few people Angie knew who maybe did drive better after a few drinks.

“You’re not going to, to drive like that, are you?” Therese asked, still giggling like a schoolgirl who’d just heard her first rumors about male anatomy.

Peggy looked at her, quite serious. “Is that a challenge?”

“It’s not a challenge,” Angie stated, firm and grumbling. What would be, extricating herself from this position without leaking on anything important, like the deep red leather of the booth. “Somebody find my heels. And my underwear.”

“Other pocket, my love, other pocket.”

Angie held her breath, closed her eyes. Her legs twitched, out of her control. “Great. Now hold very, very still until I tell you, English, or we’re going to have a situation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Driving after drinking is bad, kids, like the specials say. Don’t do it. Peggy’s doing it because well, ‘50’s, and, Peggy, she can do anything.
> 
> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts, or just to hear from you guys. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined.
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys. There’s a fair bit of porn here, and porn is kind of hard to write when there’s a polar death vortex outside, Hope everyone affected survived the polar death vortex alright. Now here, have some porn.

“Shh, shh, shh, darling. We don’t want the neighbors to hear.”

“Oh yeah. Now you’re worried about discretion,” Angie scoffed, shifting on the bench seat until she was in Peggy’s lap, facing her. “Sure.” She kissed Peggy, hard and drunk, their teeth hitting together. Her hands ran up and down Peggy’s suit vest.

“I’m only concerned about your modesty, love.” Noses and foreheads touched as Peggy grabbed Angie’s ass, helped her settle more comfortably.

“Modesty.” Angie nipped Peggy’s chin. “Is that why you practically fingered me in front of everyone?”

“No, no.” Peggy slipped Angie’s coat off, exposing her mostly bare back, pressed the tips of her fingers into the skin there. “That I did because it was fun. Have I mentioned what an inspired purchase this dress was?”

“Fun,” Angie repeated, squeezing her legs against Peggy’s. “You think it’s fun torturing me, English?”

“Heaps.” Peggy ran her hands along Angie’s arms. “Buckets. Oodles.” Each word was accompanied by a kiss to Angie’s chest, very much on display in that dress.

“You got a funny sense of fun, you know that, Peg?”

“Do I? Is it funny, wanting to see you squirm?” Peggy moved her hands to Angie’s legs, stroking over the dancer’s muscles there, hiking up the dark material of the dress. “You did say I needed fun tonight, after all these weeks with Jacob.”

“I did. Now, three guesses what I need.”

Peggy kept one hand on Angie’s back, stabilizing her. The other moved to Angie’s center. “These damn things are in my way again, she complained before pushing Angie’s underwear aside, enough to get her hand where it needed to be.

“ _Fuck_.” Angie’s whole body shuddered as Peggy’s finger went in. “Oh God.”

“You’re bloody soaked,” Peggy said, almost a growl as Angie’s head fell against her shoulder.

Angie grunted, her breath hot on the side of Peggy’s neck as her hands pulled restlessly at Peggy’s suit. “Like you didn’t know.”

Peggy kissed Angie’s cheek, nuzzled there. “Still nice to see the results of my work firsthand.” She rubbed Angie’s clit, felt Angie’s shuddery breaths. “You’re exquisite.”

“Yeah?”

Peggy hummed, her hand going up and down Angie’s back, all bare skin and straining muscles. “Beyond words.”

“Less words then,” Angie said, shifting her hips, bringing her mouth to Peggy’s.

Angie’s tongue moved with hers as Peggy curled her finger, added another. Harder than it should be with Angie’s knickers in the way, but her legs were wrapped too tightly around Peggy’s middle for Peggy to think she’d move long enough to get rid of them. Assuming Peggy was willing to go through that hassle herself, which she wasn’t. She felt too good exactly where she was, with Angie riding her hand. It was enjoyable at the club, watching Angie struggle not to move, react. Enjoyable, but nothing like this. Angie wasn’t meant for stillness, for holding back. She was meant, _they_ were, for this. Warmth and wet, and Angie fucking Peggy’s hand with abandon.

“You smell good,” Peggy mumbled into Angie’s neck. Her pulse point held the scent of perfume, a bottle Steve purchased for her birthday. Steve, who’s nose was stronger than average thanks to the serum, who loathed the perfume section in any store, but had that bottle made especially for Angie. The scent made him a presence in their coupling, made her smile.

It was fortunate that the perfume was his only trace here. The car was big, but not big enough for three people to be doing what they were doing.

“Pegs. Peggy.”

Angie’s voice was rough, in a sweet way that reminded Peggy of her own need. Quite the dry spell since Jake’s birth, and then Lizzie and the snowstorm, the child wanting to be alone about as much as they wished to leave her that way. “I’ve missed you,” Peggy said, kissing Angie, feeling the sweat on Angie’s skin as their foreheads touched. She’d worn the damn suit for Angie’s benefit, mostly, regretted it now as she overheated within its confines.

“Missed you. Love you.” Angie sat back a bit as Peggy’s hand worked between her legs. Finding a better angle, Angie moaned, not bothering to hold it inside. One hand braced itself on Peggy’s shoulder, the other going to her own breast, tugging and pinching.

Peggy savored the show, only slightly annoyed by the dress in the way. She pushed down one of the straps, the closest she could get to an easy removal, nipping her teeth against Angie’s shoulder, then licking away the sting.

“Peg… _fuck_! That. There.”

Peggy chuckled, a deep, dirty sound as she repeated the turn of her fingers that caused Angie to cry out. “You know, I’m much more used to giving orders these days, not taking them. But I do love how very bossy you get when you’re drunk.”

“Yeah? Should’ve told me. I don’t need booze to be bossy. God,” she said, voice changing on the last word as she tugged on her breast through the layers of material, her hips pushing out a more urgent rhythm. “More, babe, give me a little more.”

Peggy, who often felt she wasn’t giving Angie enough (courtesy of that job where she always gave the orders) swore a long time ago that she’d do anything she could for Angie. Give anything that would make Angie happy, anything it was in her power to give. Buzzed and happy, free of her responsibilities for the night, Peggy was more than willing to give her this. Hand near Angie’s ass, Peggy helped provided encouragement and stability as Angie rode her hand harder. “There you go, darling, let me look. Let me see you.”

Angie did not disappoint. Her climax was neither quiet nor still. Her hips were wild, her body twisting in the cramped space of the car. She said filthy things in two languages, all of which were music to Peggy’s ears. Less welcome was the sudden blare of the horn as Angie knocked it with her elbow.

“Bloody hell,” said Peggy, pulling Angie close to her and stopping the noise as Angie shuddered through the rest of her high. “This is why I hate shagging in cars.”

“Well,” Angie replied, out of breath, her heart thumping roughly against Peggy’s as she wound her arms around Peggy’s neck, her face resting in the hollow there. “I feel better now, and that’s the important thing, right?”

Peggy laughed into Angie’s curls. “Indeed. But what will the neighbors think?”

 Angie huffed, her lips making lazy patterns on Peggy’s skin. “We’re not that loud.”

“It’s the concrete, darling. Makes everything echo.”

Angie breathed out an annoyed sound, studying the confines of their garage. “Oh, whatever. Let them be jealous.”

* * *

 Steve had the door open before Carol could touch the knob. “Evening, ladies. Don’t tell me Ange and Peggy left you to find your own way home.”

Therese laughed, Carol’s hand on her back as Steve stepped aside, beckoning them into the house. “Peggy’s putting the car in the garage. Why do you need two garages anyway?”

It still amused Carol, the things that amazed Therese so much, including the layout of this property. The stone drive, often covered in Steve and Lizzie's chalk artwork, forked at the end. A right turn brought visitors to the garage they actually used, kept vehicles in. A left turn meant driving onto gravel, and ending at Steve's workshop, which as far as Carol knew only housed Steve's precious dark motorcycle, and all the artwork and weights he wouldn't keep in the house. If you went too far when heading for the workshop, Angie quipped, you'd end up in the pool. The first time she made this joke, Therese had frowned, unsure whether or not she was kidding.

“One is so they have somewhere to banish me when needed,” Steve said, helping Carol and Therese shrug out of their coats, hanging them on a hook by the door. “The other was Howard’s idea, when he realized my studio wasn’t a ‘proper’ garage. Not enough room. And you can’t just leave cars on the street, you know, they’ll rust.”

Carol scoffed. Howard sounded like Harge, though she wouldn’t ruin a good night by bringing that up, saying the latter name aloud.

“We went out of town for a weekend, came back and there’s a half-built garage.” Steve shrugged. “How was your night?”

“Wonderful,” Therese said with a grin. Steve told her to go ahead and remove her shoes, which she did, stumbling a little only for Carol to catch her elbow. “Fantastic.”

“Good.”

Carol swore she saw a spark of knowledge in his eye. Photographic memory, wasn’t it? He probably knew every hair out of place on her head, every hair she’d ruffled on Therese’s while Therese was on her knees in the bathroom. The thought of it warmed Carol’s insides, probably her face as well. She sensed no judgement from Steve. Possibly he didn’t feel he had room to talk, not after his and Peggy's disappearance from the Halloween party, despite the woman being so heavily pregnant that she swore the child was going to claw its way out at any moment, like some grotesque monster. Or his disappearance with Angie from the Christmas party, returning thirty minutes later with heavily spiked punch, Angie wearing a Cheshire Cat grin for the rest of the night.

Steve gave her a lopsided smile. Carol rolled her eyes, then forgot about Steve in the relief of discarding her heels next to Therese’s. Letting out a breath, she went to the sofa where Therese had settled herself. Steve’s sketchbook sat on the arm of a recliner, pencil and a glass of something on the table next to it.  He’d been there, presumably, before they arrived, reclaimed his place only after asking if they needed anything.

“Full service,” Carol joked. “Doorman, coat check and waiter. Very nice.”

“Only the best around here,” said Steve. “The ladies would kill me if I ruined your great night by being a lousy host.”

“And you?” Carol asked as Therese yawned into her shoulder. “Have a good night?”

“Good,” he agreed. “Diaper situation that made me wish my nose wasn’t dialed up to eleven, but that’s normal. Quiet time with the kids, mostly.”

“I thought Howard was coming over?” said Therese.

“That was the plan. He fell in love again instead,” Steve replied, unconcerned.

Carol barely heard this part of the conversation, Therese asking who the latest lady/victim was. She was caught on Steve’s earlier words. Quiet. Children. Carol thought of their apartment, too quiet even with Therese there. She swallowed. She hadn’t drunk enough to get depressed, and Therese hated when she did. She forced herself not to grow jealous and angry, not to envy Steve the simplicity of having his children in his home. Children he looked after, not some nanny. Carol should’ve fired Florence years ago, no matter Harge’s objections. She should’ve spent every spare moment with Rindy, instead of leaving them for someone else.

She was getting depressed. It wouldn’t do. She asked Steve for a glass of water she’d turned down moments ago, listened to him putter around the kitchen, to the questions he asked Therese. It was a good enough distraction, for now. Therese was warm and close and made extra affectionate through the drinks. Carol kissed Therese’s hair and focused on those things, let Therese gush her excitement over the evening.

Steve came back with two glasses and a pitcher of water, talked to Therese until she let out a particularly enormous yawn. “What are you thinking for tonight? You’re welcome to stay here, or I could give you a ride home.”

“You think you can drive my car?” Carol asked, knowing she’d had a bit too much herself to get their vehicle home. She might’ve risked it, if it were just her, if she were a little more depressed. “I’ve seen the footage. Cars tend to blow up around you.”

Steve waved that off. “That’s the Hollywood stuff, before they had me doing real work. People like explosions. Promise I’d be careful.”

“It’s late, isn’t it?” Therese asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t need much sleep. Few hours is usually more than enough. Why do you think Peg and Angie agreed to have children with me?”

Carol wondered what he did, the man with the photographic memory, how he filled the hours. For her, it was a terrible thought, all that extra, empty time to be reminded of Rindy’s empty room, the dust gathering on her train set.  She was glad she could sleep in Therese’s arms. Therese, who seemed more and more likely to fall asleep against her at any moment.

“I’m sleepy,” said Therese, stating the obvious. “Can we stay here?” she asked, eyes on Carol’s.

“Of course.” Carol smiled, kissed Therese’s temple. She wouldn’t mind being away from the apartment anyway, not tonight.

“Angie set the spare room up already, I think,” said Steve. “Should be some night stuff that’ll fit okay in the dresser. I’ll double-check when Ange comes back in.”

“Where are they anyway?” Therese asked, shifting to look toward the windows. “It’s not that long a walk up the drive.”

“Maybe they took a wrong turn,” Carol teased.

Just after that came the distinctive sound of a horn blasting. And blasting. And blasting.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Steve said into the abrupt silence that followed.

He picked up his sketchbook again, flipped to a page and drew, the item balanced on his knee. Carol swore she saw him hiding a laugh behind the pages.

* * *

 “Peg, why didn’t you wear the black dress?” Angie half asked, half whined as she fumbled in the backseat.

“Because you asked me to wear the black suit.”

“Yeah, didn’t think that one through properly.”

“We’ll make due.”

Peggy was sprawled out across the backseat with Angie on top of her. After the horn incident, they thought it best to relocate. Angie tried to climb her way back, a move that might’ve been possible with less alcohol involved. The view was still fabulous, but Peggy ultimately wound up rescuing her, insisting that they both use the doors. Which solved one problem, but left Peggy literally caught with pants around her ankles. A dress was certainly a better fit for fucking in a confined space.

“You do look great,” Angie said, running her fingers down Peggy’s inner thigh. “And you’re worth the effort.”

“I would hope.” Hand in Angie’s hair, Peggy pulled her down for a kiss, shifting legs that couldn’t spread apart the way she wanted.

Angie’s chuckle was a bit evil, which Peggy guessed she deserved after her antics at the club. She took her not so sweet time tracing Peggy’s leg, stopping at her underwear. Her fingers played teasingly with the waistband until Peggy lifted up as much as she could, pulled those down to join her trousers.

Something changed in the cramped car. Angie’s eyes darkened. “Peggy?”

“You’ll need those gone, I think. They’re wrecked anyway, until Steve does the washing.”

Angie stroked Peggy’s cheek. “You want…?”

Turning her head, Peggy brought two of Angie’s fingers into her mouth. She sucked lightly, managed to produce a deliciously lewd sound in the stillness of the garage. “Please.”

Angie’s breath stuttered as she pulled her fingers free. She kissed Peggy with a different tempo, a kind of controlled urgency. “Okay. Tell me if I screw something up.”

“Impossible. But I’ll keep you updated on mission conditions.”

Angie snorted. “What’d I tell you about shop talk in the bedroom?”

“That you love it, mostly.”

“Okay, well we’re not in the bedroom, are we?”

“Mmm. You’re quite capable of shutting me up, love.”

Angie mumbled something against Peggy’s mouth, something warm and sweet and drunk, which Peggy couldn’t be bothered to translate. Not with Angie’s fingers on her clit. She moved like someone relearning a familiar place that hadn’t been visited in ages, slow circles that drew Peggy’s hips upward.

She wouldn’t last, Peggy knew this already. Angie was too exquisite, it had been too long. Angie wet her fingers at Peggy’s entrance, rubbed them along Peggy’s clit. She repeated this until Peggy grunted out a plea. She didn’t want to stay out here all night, and she didn’t want to come without Angie’s fingers inside her.

Angie smirked against Peggy’s mouth, kissed it once, twice, then held Peggy’s gaze as she slipped a solitary finger in, watching for reactions.

They both groaned, Peggy thought, though she was too caught up in her own pleasure to be certain. Angie made her lose the finer details of her surroundings, something that wasn’t easy to do, that went against every impulse ingrained in her for nearly two decades.

“Good?” Angie asked, rough and tender at once as she curled her finger inside, testing something they hadn't done in months. Something even Steve had avoided, that asshole who was probably inside listening intently to every whisper and moan.

“Yes.” She was safe here, with Angie, always. “Fuck yes.”

Angie, Peggy quickly learned,  liked it when Peggy cursed. It always sounded “classier” than when normal people did it, either through the accent or just the way she formed words. Maybe it was the way she looked when she did it.

As Peggy let a soft stream of obscenities in varying languages fall from her lips, Angie slowly pumped her finger in and out, thumb twisted to rub against her clit and edge her along. Gentle and slow only lasted at first, her movements becoming quicker, steadier when Peggy reminded her, on a gasp, that they were expected.

“I already want you,” she said. “So very fucking badly.”

Peggy got another finger for that; and a murmured question about if it was okay. A question answered with a ferocious kiss, and Peggy working to untie the straps that held Angie’s dress together at the nape of her neck, letting the material fall forward and baring her chest.

"This is meant to be about you," Angie chided on a moan, arching against Peggy's hands when Peggy cupped her breast, fingers brushing the nipple.

"Since when are your tits not about me?" Peggy's mouth brushed over collarbones, hands now happily occupied, teasing her wife.

"Greedy." Angie bent forward, trying not to lose pace or rhythm with her fingers while she kissed Peggy rather sloppily.

It didn't take too long before Peggy was gasping her release, face hidden against Angie's neck to still the noise, clutching Angie to her.

With a breathless curse, Peggy rested back onto the leather of the seat, smiling up at Angie.

"Love you, English," Hand left in place, Angie wriggled her fingers just enough to make Peggy curse again, gasp.

"If you're after a round two, it's in the house," Peggy said without heat, "where there's a furnace and a bed, and an impatient eavesdropper with dedication."

"Eavesdropper, is that what we're goin' with now? Used to be we called them 'voyeurs', or dirty bastards."

Peggy laughed, rearranging on the seat enough to sit up some, kiss Angie again, "I'm sure he'll prove you perfectly right. Back inside, I think. Knickers all present and accounted for, darling? You seem to have a terrible habit of losing those."

Angie scoffed, bit carefully at Peggy’s lower lip. “I don’t lose them. I live with a couple of pervert, dirty bastards, that’s what it is, but at least Steve’s not a thief.”

“Beg pardon. At least half the times in question, those knickers were thrown at me, not stolen.”

“And the other half, you were a thief.”

“I’m a spy, love, it’s in the job description.”

“Being a pervert is in the job description?”

“You truly have no idea, and I’d like to keep it that way. Be a dear and help pull my pants up, won’t you?”

* * *

 “Angie bumped the horn,” Peggy explained when the two finally showed up, in answer to Therese’s question about the noise.

“Yeah?” Steve asked. His pencil scratched away at whatever he was drawing. “Even though you were driving, honey?”

“Yes, darling. Even though I was driving.” Stopping next to his chair, Peggy regarded his sketchbook, hand resting on his shoulder. “Do you really think I could bend that way? In a car?”

Steve brought Peggy’s palm to his lips. “It’s art. Sometimes art’s about what we want to see in the world, not how it really is.”

“And yes,” Angie said, doing a dramatic flop across the chair and into Steve’s lap, forcing him to drop the pencil and shift the sketchbook, “you could bend that way,” she said, squinting a bit at the page. “If you were motivated.”

Therese, who’d been sipping water intermittently at Carol’s suggestion, coughed. There were tears at the edges of her eyes, from pain or laughter, Carol couldn’t tell.

“You’re horrible, all of you,” Therese declared.

“You’re one to talk,” Angie replied, an arm wrapped around Steve’s neck. “’Powdering your nose.’ I’m proud of you, Shutter.”

“What do you mean?”

“She means she knows where your nose really was,” Peggy said, her fingers interlacing with those of Angie’s free hand. “Ignore her, she’s a terrible influence.”

“No worse than Abby,” said Therese.

“Christ,” Carol replied. “Don’t tell Abby that. She’ll take it as an insult. Or a challenge.”

“Hope she does, it’d be fun.” Angie yawned, wiggled her toes, bare without the heels she’d dropped in the pile by the door. “My feet are killing me. Steve, want to pull your big, strong man act and get me upstairs?”

Steve chuckled, adjusting his hold on Angie as he stood. “Sure.”

“She’s getting carried?” Therese asked, rubbing the heel of one foot where it was tucked under her on the sofa. “Carol, why don’t you ever carry me up the stairs?”

“Because we pay too much for the elevator in the lobby to break down, and there are no stairs in our apartment.”

“But my feet hurt,” Therese insisted, drunk and adorable. “Door to door service sounds nice.”

Steve crossed the living room with Angie. “I can come back, if you want.”

Carol huffed. “I’ll carry my own wife, thanks.”

“Really?” Therese asked.

“Well, since you were so subtle about asking,” Carol teased, leaving the couch and taking Therese into her arms.

She climbed the stairs with Therese, Steve and Angie a few steps behind them “just in case,” Steve said. Peggy turned off lights and joked about laziness, ignoring an offer to hop onto Steve’s back.

“Hey,” he said to Angie, “There’s sleep stuff in the guest room, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Angie replied, drunkenly calm, happy. “Good to go. Not mandatory though.”

“What?” Therese asked, yawning again against Carol’s chest.

“Some people sleep naked,” she said, like it was nothing.

“Not in other people’s houses,” said Therese, sounding almost as scandalized as she was sleepy.

“Tell that to the Dugans. Don’t worry, we washed everything since they stayed last. If you do skip clothes, just remember to lock the door. Lizzie doesn’t always pay attention when she’s sleepy, forgets which side the bathroom’s on. Sweet dreams, guys, tonight was a scream.”

“Well, that was _definitely_ more interesting than Hitchcock,” Therese stated as Carol deposited her on the bed.

Carol hummed agreement. “And almost as scary.”

Therese kissed her. “It was perfect.”

“You were.”’

Therese yawned yet again, massaged her right foot. “Carol?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you so much for taking me dancing.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Can we never go dancing again, please?”

Carol laughed. “Whatever you want, dearest.”

They got ready for bed. Carol brought clothes from the dresser on the far wall, a small selection of pajamas and nightgowns. “What do you say?” Carol asked, holding up two of the choices.

Therese barely glanced at them. “Neither, I think.”

“Neither?”

“I’m hot,” Therese said with a shrug. “And Angie said we didn’t have to pick.”

Carol stared. “Really?”

“I’m hot,” she repeated. “And you had too many clothes on before. Now come here, will you help me off with this?”

Carol watched Therese pull at her dress a few moments. Eventually, Carol decided that she hadn’t fallen into a drunken slumber already, that she wasn’t dreaming and Therese wasn’t joking. Crossing back to the dresser, she deposited the unused clothes inside.

“Where are you going?” Therese asked, rather pouty about it.

“Nowhere,” Carol said, locking the door and turning around. “Here, here, stop pulling at it like that, it’s too nice to ruin.”

The chiding remarks were accompanied by a grin as Carol went to help strip Therese out of her dress.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts, or just to hear from you guys. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined.
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Long chapter by my standards, so hopefully that helps make up for the wait time. This fic in general took way longer than I ever meant it to, but here we are, the ending of this installment. Comments would be extra specially appreciated.
> 
> Bob Haversham is borrowed from the book, because he was in there and he was convenient for me.

Carol woke up confused. The bed was comfortable, but not hers. The room had the somewhat bare features of one that didn’t belong to anyone in particular, and Carol wondered what she was doing there. She couldn’t worry too much, not with Therese tucked into her side. And snoring, just barely, a delicate, absurd noise that came only when she’d drank too much the night before.

Carol remembered then. The night before. She smiled, despite being dreadfully thirsty. She traced a light thumb over Therese’s shoulder, watching her sleep. She looked so peaceful like this, innocent as the angel Carol often referred to her as.

Shifting her legs in the tangled sheets, Carol remembered Therese’s tongue the night before, how demanding it was, not stopping until Carol’s knees threatened to give.

Not so innocent at all.

Therese stirred, as though she knew she was being thought of. Carol watched as her own initial confusion played out on Therese’s face, as Therese squinted and groaned at the muted sunlight coming in through the curtains. “Well, good morning,” she said in greeting, kissing Therese’s messy hair.

Therese gave her a blurry look, but smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Carol replied, returning the smile.

“What time is it?”

Carol searched for a clock in easy view, gave up rather quickly when she couldn’t find one. She shrugged. “How do you feel?”

“Shitty.”

The sudden, grumpy curse amused Carol. She chuckled, kept chuckling at the face Therese made. “I’m sorry, baby.”

Therese huffed. “Yeah, I can tell. How about you, how do you feel?”

Carol thought about this. “Good,” she said and meant it. She’d had moments of sadness last night, but hadn’t drowned them in whiskey, as had been her tendency over the last three weeks. She hadn’t drunk enough to feel sick and ashamed. She’d pulled Therese to her in the bad moments, not pushed her away, and she suspected it’d made all the difference. “I feel good.”

“I’m glad.” Therese yawned.

“Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.” Therese yawned again, frowned. “Carol, did you convince me to sleep naked in someone else’s house?”

Carol smirked. “Oh no, that was all you. After you took advantage of me in the bathroom.”

“Oh God. It was, wasn’t it?” Therese grabbed the nearest pillow, hid her face under it.

“Stop it, Carol said on a laugh, sitting up on her elbow and attempting to drag the pillow away. “Hey. It was amazing. You were amazing.”

“I took advantage of you in a public bathroom.”

“I know. It was amazing.” With some effort, Carol got the pillow away, brought her forehead down to Therese’s. “It was perfect, I promise.”

Carol tried to kiss her, but Therese turned her cheek, laughing. “Don’t, my breath’s terrible.”

Considering where her mouth had so recently been, Carol was more than a little baffled by Therese’s shyness. “You think mine’s any better?” She bumped Therese’s cheek with her nose. They were both utter messes, having skipped all but the most basic evening routines before bed. Carol couldn’t say she cared,

“Maybe I will go back to sleep,” Therese said after a moment, another yawn.

“You should.”

“I need the bathroom though,” said Therese, sounding quite put out by this.

Carol laughed. “You should take care of that, then.”

“I don’t want to get up.”

“Well, whenever you do, make sure to put on those pajamas you had no use for yesterday. Just because Steve wanders around here without a shirt on all the time—”

“It is his house. I think he mostly does that because Jake pukes or pees on his shirts.”

“Or because Angie made a rule about how often he’s allowed to wear clothes.”

“Or that, yeah.”

Further debate on the subject was halted by the sudden sound of hurried feet pounding away nearby. Carol had a second or two to register that before the pounding changed form.

“Auntie Carol, Auntie ‘Rhese!” Lizzie’s shouts came with insistent bangs to the door. “Get up, Daddy says breakfast!”

When the door didn’t open instantly, the knob began to rattle, the bangs on the door never stopping.  Carol looked at Therese, who’d jumped at the sudden intrusion and was rubbing her forehead. The excited shouting couldn’t be helping the hangover. “Okay, darling!” Carol said toward the door, giving Therese an apologetic look at having to add to the yelling. “We’ll be right down.”

The assault stopped. “Don’t forget to teeth brush. If I have to, so do you!”

“I won’t, I promise,” Carol replied, trying not to laugh.

“Auntie ‘Rhese too? Is she in there? Is she okay?”

Therese, who by this point had resumed trying to smother herself with a pillow, lifted it enough to make herself audible. “I’m here, kiddo,” she said, grimacing at the sound of her own voice.

“Oh. Morning.”

“Morning, Lizzie.”

“You have to brush your teeth before breakfast. There’s extra teeth brushes in the drawer. Don’t use Mommy’s, that’s yucky and she gets mad.”

Lizzie said this like someone speaking from bitter experience. Therese replaced the pillow over her face and laughed into it.

“You want help finding the brushes?” Lizzie asked. The knob rattled again, hard.

“No, no,” Carol replied, seeing Therese would be of no further help. “We’ll manage, Lizzie, thanks.”

“Okay. In the drawer, not in the cup. I can show you if you want.”

The knob shook rather ominously. Carol adjusted the blankets to cover her upper half, not a problem for Therese, who’d pulled them right over her head along with the pillow and was now nothing but a shaking lump.

“Elizabeth.” Angie’s voice replaced Lizzie’s, cheerful but firm. “You break another doorknob, it comes out of your allowance.”

“Mama!”

“We told you the deal last time. Now quit harassing the guests and go brush your teeth.”

“Why? They’re just going to get dirty again when I eat.”

“Then you can brush them again after breakfast.”

“Mama.”

“Elizabeth.”

Lizzie made a loud noise of protest. “Fine.” The door thudded, rattled on it’s hinges. Angie’s voice came back a few seconds later.

“Sorry about the wakeup call. Could be worse. Angel used to jump on my stomach to get me up. Pain in the ass little queer. Him, not you. You girls take your time, I’ll make sure the bottomless pits downstairs save you something.”

In the quiet that followed, Therese’s laughter was more obvious. When it turned into something closer to a cough and she began to twist under the blankets, Carol helped pull them away, along with the pillow, which had left a slight imprint on the side of Therese’s face.

“Well, that was horrible,” said Therese, though she was still laughing.

“Not so horrible.” Rindy had once woken them up in the middle of the night by vomiting spectacularly across the end of the bed, having woke with an upset stomach. An emergency bath, two changes of clothes later, and the child had been happily sipping warm milk and ready to sleep again, while Therese wanted to boil their blankets. She’d not shown any upset with Rindy though, hadn’t said a word about Rindy invading their bed and falling asleep with her elbow poking Therese’s ribs. It might’ve been the first time Carol realized her two favorite people would fit together.

Carol wasn’t going to mention that now. Every thought and memory was extra bittersweet with Lizzie here. Also, if past experience was any indication, Therese had some degree of upset stomach after her night of drinking. Voicing that particular recollection might have Therese running naked through their friends’ home in search of the nearest bathroom.

“My horrible breath kept hitting the pillow and coming back at me,” Therese said, giving the pillow in question a disgruntled smack. “So yes, it was horrible.”

Carol burst out laughing. With a long stretch of her limbs as she got out of bed, she stooped to gather the spare nightclothes discarded on the floor. “Come on then. Best brush our teeth before Lizzie comes back and kicks the door in.”

* * *

“Morning kids,” Angie greeted with her usual smile. She was pouring coffee. The room smelled like breakfast. Steve was by the stove (fully dressed in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt). He greeted them as they entered. Peggy was knelt over the bassinet parked nearby, where Jake could be heard babbling.

“Morning,” Carol replied, tightening the robe around her waist. Peggy or Angie’s, she wasn’t sure who it belonged to, but it was one of the two left upstairs. She’d grabbed first pick as soon as she saw them. Therese wore the other one, swam in it, really, the sleeves rolled as far up as they would go. It was Steve’s, obviously, and it dragged along the floor in Therese’s wake. One look at Angie’s face told Carol what she already suspected. The choice was quite deliberate, and Carol had picked the right one. Carol smirked. Angie’s eyes glinted from behind her coffee mug.

Turning from Jake, Peggy took one look at Therese, snorted, then found Angie’s gaze. “Really?”

“Oh, come on. You know I had to. She’s so tiny and he’s so not.”

Therese huffed as Carol pulled out a chair for her. They sat next to each other at the table. “You’re mean,” Therese said without heat. “Pass me that coffee.”

“If I was mean, I wouldn’t pass you the coffee,” Angie said, doing as she was asked. “How’s everyone holding up today?”

“Good,” Carol replied. There was a plate of toast in the middle of the table and she took from it, buttered a piece. “Great, actually. It was a lovely idea, thanks for inviting us out.”

“Anytime. And you, Mum?”

Passing Angie on her way to the table, Peggy brushed her hand along Angie’s back, kissed messy curls that still bore the markers of sleep. “It was a splendid night. You were right, it did me a world of good to get away from the young master for a few hours.”

Jake let out a wail.

“Sorry, darling.” Peggy sat down next to Angie while Steve fiddled with plates by the counter, glass and silverware making tiny clangs over Jake’s noises. “But I do feel better. Exhausted and reinvigorated.”

Angie grinned. “Love that place, English. One of the best investments you ever made. I always feel great coming back from there. Like we’re not such freaks, you know?”

“Oh, we’re freaks,” Steve said amiably. “Peg just happens to employ a whole lot of other freaks to keep us company.” He glanced at Therese. “How about you? How you feeling, hotshot?”

“Small.” Therese played with the robe’s sleeve again so it wouldn’t dip into the coffee she’d just poured. “Also, I wish I was dead.”

Carol shouldn’t have laughed, but she did. Something about the overly flat tone. She helped with the sleeve, a try at apology.

“What was in those Dear Janes, really?” Therese asked, rubbing at her forehead.

“It would be easier to ask what wasn’t,” Peggy replied.

Therese groaned. “They tasted like punch.”

“Yeah,” said Angie. “That’s so they won’t punch you in the face ‘til next morning.”

Steve began placing dishes in front of them. They’d eaten together enough that he knew what his guests liked. It helped, Carol guessed, that he could remember everything he wanted without effort.

Therese was the last to be served. It took long enough that she twisted in her chair to look at him. “Hey, just because I’m about to disappear in this tent, doesn’t mean you get to forget about me.”

“Never,” he promised, adding something to a final plate before setting it in front of Therese.

He’d made a smiley face out of her breakfast, a pancake with egg eyes and a bacon mouth. Therese made a face at him before removing the smile, chewing carefully at the edge of her bacon.

Lizzie’s plate sat in front of an empty chair. Angie sighed. “That kid. Gets everyone up at the ass crack, she’s starving to death, and where is she now?”

Steve sat down, looked up at the ceiling. “Lizzie. Get down here, please.”

His voice was raised, but not much, not enough to startle the baby. Carol was surprised Lizzie could hear it over the silverware and Jacob’s intermittent commentary, but soon enough she came pounding down the stairs, weighed down by a rather enormous book.

“I couldn’t find my animals,” she said, lugging the book with her as she climbed into the chair next to Steve’s.

“Animals?” Therese asked. “Did your parents finally let you take some of Howard’s lion cubs home?”

“No,” said Lizzie, her disappointment as obvious as it was short lived. “But I got this!” The book made a decent thud as Lizzie dropped it on the table, almost upsetting her milk in the process.

“That is a very big book for such a little girl,” Carol observed, a smile tugging at her lips.

Lizzie was pleased enough with her reading that she didn’t complain about being called little. “It’s got stuff about all the animals in the whole world, most of them,” she said, rushed and breathless.

“Does it?” Carol asked. “Well that is a very fine present indeed.”

Lizzie nodded hard enough to make the curls on her head bob. “Uncle Benny and ‘Sario and ‘Cesco got it for me. They saved allowances.”

“That was very sweet of them,” said Carol. The boys who were supposed to be watching Lizzie and Rindy during the storm. She suspected most of the money for this gift had come from Mr. Martinelli, pooled allowances or not.

“Daddy, read to me?” Lizzie asked, flipping the book open with one hand and attacking her pancakes with the other.

“Later, kiddo. Now’s breakfast.”

“Daddy…”

“Hush,” said Peggy. “We have guests, and it’s rude to read at the table.”

“You do it,” Lizzie replied, stubborn.

“That is because I’m hopeless and uncouth and can’t be saved. You, however are a different story. Come on, put that aside before you spill syrup on it.”

Lizzie did so, with a dramatically indrawn breath. “Auntie ‘Rhese,” she said, spearing a cut up bit of pancake with her fork, “they have pictures of all the animals in here. You’d like it.”

“I bet so. Do you want to show me some after breakfast?” Therese asked, kind as ever with Lizzie despite the hangover she was nursing.

“Yeah!” Lizzie exclaimed, probably too loud for Therese’s liking, definitely loud enough to elicit a sort of answering shriek from Jake.

“What’s your favorite animal?” Carol asked, squeezing Therese’s leg under the table in a show of sympathy.

“Polar bears,” Lizzie said instantly. “They have polar bear pictures in here too. When is Rindy coming back to play?”

The bite of food Carol swallowed went down wrong. Her stomach did a little drop at the sudden question.

“We were looking for polar bears when it snowed,” Lizzie continued, splashing a piece of bacon into the syrup pooling on her plate. “I want to show Rindy. When do we get to play again, she hasn’t been around in _ages_.”

“You’ll see Rindy soon,” Angie said while Carol was still fumbling in silence.

“When?”

“Soon,” Angie repeated, though Carol got the impression she wasn’t talking to Lizzie.

“When?”

“Soon, baby.”

“But I want—”

“So, meant to tell you, Carol,” said Steve. Hardly a subtle interruption, but it changed the subject.  “Might need you to have a talk with Abby.”

“Oh?” Carol sipped her coffee, bought a few more seconds to compose herself. “What’s she done now?”

“I don’t like calling Rose at home, but when I do, I kind of need her to answer.”

“What did you need Rose for?” Peggy asked.

"Sarah called. Kevin was acting up and Jack had to bring him in so I called Rose to update her and get her to have Quinn sent in since not only do I not have his direct number, I don't have enough details on the man to have an operator connect us. It took four tries to get through. Four. Guess why?"

Most of those words meant nothing to Carol, but Steve was looking at her, so she answered. “Because my best friend is a sl—” Therese kicked her under the table, cutting her off. Carol followed Therese’s gaze to Lizzie. “Because my best friend is a tramp taking a three day weekend?”

“You said it, not me,” Steve replied.

“Tramp like _Lady and the Tramp_?” Lizzie asked.

“Yes, like that,” Therese said before Carol could answer.

“Wouldn’t she be the lady instead?” Lizzie wondered, holding her milk with both hands.

“Only if the weekend’s not turning out as well as she’d hoped,” Carol replied, and got kicked again for it.

“What’s wrong with Kevin?” Peggy asked, sipping coffee but giving Steve her full attention.

Steve waved a hand. “Overexcited, overtired. got a bit... rowdy and mouthy. Sarah was seen to by Violet, and he and Jack slept in the med ward overnight."

“But it’s under control?”

“It is.” Steve reached across the table, touched Peggy’s hand. “All handled.” He spoke to Carol again. “But if you could tell Abby to let Rose up for air when the phone rings? National security and all that.”

“I’ll tell her, for all the good it’ll do you.”

Jacob, who’d been carrying on in his own language on and off throughout their conversation let out a loud noise, giggled, then repeated it.

“Sorry,” Peggy said as Therese pinched the bridge of her nose. “We think he’s become aware that he has vocal cords.”

Lizzie pressed her hands to her ears. “He should have a muzzle.”

“No,” Peggy said.

“Why not?”

“No,” Peggy repeated.

“We saw your Uncle Georgie last night,” Angie told Lizzie.

Lizzie perked up. “Angel too?”

“Just Georgie this time. But he said to say hi to his best girl.”

Therese took small drinks of her coffee. “I talked to him too,” she said. “I might come and photograph one of his dance classes sometime. He thinks I should, anyway.”

“Oh, you should,” said Angie, grinning. “You’d have a blast, get some amazing pictures. None you could sell anywhere, unless you go black market, but…”

Therese chuckled. “I wouldn’t care about selling them, I just think it might be interesting.”

"Interesting? You'd be on the receiving end of how Georgie seduced Angel."

Peggy rolled her eyes. "You've done it wrong, darling?"

"You tell it then."

"Therese, you lucky soul. If you go to witness the practice of the magical art of the salsa, the tango, the Viennese waltz, you shall find yourself entranced, engaged, trapped the same way the dashing Sergeant Pilot Angelo Felice Martinelli Jr. was the moment he laid eyes on the glorious masterpiece that is Jorge Maria Adalberto Casiano Fonseca."

"Did you just go Spanish?" Therese blinked, squinted. “Or is that just my hangover?”

"Don't mock my brother-in-law, English." Angie scolded trying not to laugh at Peggy's perfect imitation of Georgie's accent, right down to his tone of voice.

"How the hell did you do that?" Carol asked.

"Do what?" Peggy's words might have been innocent, but they were also American in accent as she went back to her coffee.

* * *

Ultimately, it was a series of phone calls that changed everything. The first came on Sunday night. They’d spent the last day and a half recovering from Bombshell. Now Therese and Carol were curled up on the sofa enjoying _Alfred Hitchcock Presents_. Therese was enjoying it anyway. Carol was all tension. Every five minutes or so, she’d pick up her drink and look at the clock. She was in the midst of doing so when the phone rang, loud and shrill, cutting through the darkened room. Therese insisted the lights be off.

“Christ.” Carol jumped, nearly spilling her drink on their antique couch, and Therese. “I hate this goddamn show.”

“It’s almost over,” said Therese, straining to hear over the phone.

“Thank God.” Carol reached for the source of the ringing.

“It’s almost over,” Therese repeated, eyes leaving the TV to offer Carol a pointed glance.

Carol smiled for the first time in nearly an hour. “That’ll be Abby, I’m sure. If I don’t answer, she’ll just keep calling. It’ll be easier to tell her to go away for ten more minutes.”

Therese sighed, squeezed Carol’s arm. “Okay, but hurry up. Dannie’ll ruin it for me tomorrow if I miss it.”

“God forbid. I’ll keep it short,” Carol promised, picking up he receiver.

Therese watched the TV, tried to tune out Carol’s conversation. Carol guessed right, was telling Abby that it was still the weekend, and something else about Therese torturing her. Therese leaned forward to hear the television better, then lost focus. Carol was asking Abby something. Her tone had changed, becoming something that didn’t fit a late evening check in. Carol sat forward too, far more focused on the phone than Therese was on her program. She motioned frantically for Therese to turn the volume down.

The call was not short.

* * *

“Texas. What the fuck is he doing in Texas? He hasn’t even sweated since he came back from the Pacific.”

Therese’s palms were sweating just from watching Carol. She was also pretty sure they’d need a new phone, the way Carol was pacing and tangling the cord of this one. Too jittery to help it anymore, Therese stood from the sofa, put a hand on Carol’s elbow to keep her still. Wrapping an arm around Carol’s waist, Therese leaned in close enough to hear the other end of the conversation.

“It’s not all heat,” Peggy said, “especially this time of year. He wouldn’t be sweating all that much unless he went in the summer.”

“But why go there?” Carol fretted, though she’d at least stilled, put an absent hand at the small of Therese’s back. “What the hell is in Texas?”

“Steers and queers,” Steve replied, sounding a bit further away than Peggy. His deeper voice was offset by Jake’s high-pitched squealing somewhere in the background.

“Don’t be rude, darling,” Peggy chided. “There’s also racism, and Germans.”

And Rindy, apparently. Wrapped up in Rose all weekend, Abby went several days without being home. She had a housekeeper who came in a few days a week, a woman who knew of Abby’s preferences, but couldn’t care less. Not in the face of what Abby paid her. The housekeeper took a message from Harge on Saturday morning. He said he’d tried to call Carol and couldn’t get through, which left Abby. He was taking Rindy on a vacation, they would return in a week. Abby hadn’t seen the message until over a day after it was taken.

While Abby was angry and apologetic, Carol had been more annoyed than anything. At first. It wasn’t new for Harge to grab Rindy away without notice. Hell, he’d done it the first time Therese met the child. Carol pointed out that she hadn’t seen Rindy in weeks anyway. Did it really matter if her daughter was being kept from her in Harge’s house or somewhere else? Carol drank and brooded that Sunday night before bed. She slept badly and blamed it on Therese’s damned, demented show, but that was all.

Things didn’t turn awful until Tuesday.

Abby had a friend, an acquaintance really, who worked in Harge’s firm. They met at parties sometimes, knew some of the same people. Abby had drinks with him now and again, paid the tab in exchange for information. Bob something, his name was, Therese could never remember. He didn’t work all that closely with the higher-ups, with Harge, but he heard things.

Abby lunched with him after Harge’s latest message. He’d come through in the past with little leads on what Harge was up to, what his schedules were like. Always slim, but better than nothing. She’d lost touch with him for awhile because his ex was the jealous type and unaware that Abby would never take that sort of interest in a man. But when their engagement fell through, Abby was quick to buy him a drink in commiseration and resume the old arrangement.

It was Bob who told Abby that things pointed to Harge jetting off to Texas. That was when Carol’s simmering anger changed to alarm. There was no Aird property in Texas. When he’d taken Rindy out of state before, it was always somewhere Carol at least knew, even if she hadn’t suffered through a visit there in years. But Bob insisted that Texas was the word around the office.

“No, I don’t know,” Carol said into the phone now. Therese had drifted off into her own worry and didn’t hear what she was responding to, only the barely suppressed fear in her voice. “Haversham told Abby he might be looking at property there.”

Haversham. Bob something was Haversham. Therese’s stomach knotted. Carol hadn’t said anything about property before.

“He’s in real estate development,” Peggy said through the phone, calm without being condescending. “Isn’t he always looking at property?”

“Not there, not in the South.”

“Maybe they’re expanding.”

“Maybe,” Carol said. She might’ve agreed that maybe the sky would be green tomorrow.

They spoke a few minutes more. Peggy promised to look into it. Peggy had asked at the start of the call if Carol was worried for Rindy’s safety.

No, she’d said. Harge would only ever want to hurt her, not Rindy.

Therese was not reassured.

Carol exhaled after hanging up, the release of breath doing nothing for the tension in her body. She went in search of the nearest ashtray, stood near the coffee table as she bent for the pack of cigarettes resting there. “Just when I think he can’t surprise me anymore, that I’ve learned all the tricks.” Carol shook her head.

The sick feeling Therese had the first time she watched Harge take Rindy away came full force, the old anxiety mixing with the new. “I’m sorry,” she blurted. She might throw up if she kept the words inside.

Carol lit a cigarette, looked at her. “I know. It’s alright.”

“No.” No it wasn’t alright, no, Carol didn’t understand. “It’s my fault.”

“Why on Earth would you think that?”

“It is,” Therese insisted, knowing this was bad. Carol said she didn’t always talk about Rindy with Therese because Therese took on guilt that wasn’t hers. It was an irritating explanation, but here Therese was now, making Carol’s point. “I made you go out on Friday. We wouldn’t have stayed with Angie and Steve and Peggy otherwise. We would’ve been here when Harge called in the morning.”

Carol took a drag off the cigarette, then snuffed it into the ashtray, long before it was done. She came to Therese, put both hands on her arms, squeezed gently. “Nothing Harge does, nothing he will ever do, will be your fault.”

“Carol—”

“You didn’t make me do a thing.” Unexpectedly, Carol cracked something like a smile. “Well, just the one thing, but I very much enjoyed that, and wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“Carol,” Therese repeated, a blush coloring her skin.

“I wouldn’t trade it, Therese,” Carol said, holding her gaze. “We don’t know that he called here at all, do we? And even if he did and I answered, what would it change? If he had it in his mind to take her somewhere, she was going, no matter what I said.”

“You could’ve found out more,” Therese insisted, quiet.

“Maybe. Or he would’ve grunted a few words at me and hung up. Then I would’ve been grumpy and insufferable all weekend, not just the last few days.”

“You’re not—”

“I am. But it’s not your fault. It would’ve been worse without you. I got to be with you, angel. And this,” she tossed a disgusted glance at the phone, “is a mess, but it doesn’t change anything about how much I loved being with you. How much I always love that.”

“You’re not angry with me?” Therese asked, sounding much younger and smaller than she liked.

“No. You shouldn’t be either.” Carol pressed her forehead to Therese’s for a long moment, as though trying to transfer her thoughts into Therese’s head, make her understand. “I told you, I can’t live my life based on Harge’s whims anymore, hoping I’ll be here just in case he decides to show some decency. If I wanted that, I’d still be married to him.”

It wasn’t right, Carol comforting her. It should be the other way around. Would Harge really take Rindy away, more than he already had?

“It’s okay to be scared,” Carol murmured.

Maybe she’d established that link between their minds after all. “Is it?”

“Yes. She’s your daughter too.”

For some reason, those words had tears threatening. Therese swallowed, hugged Carol close to her and hid her face in Carol’s neck, smelling her perfume. “Are you? Scared?”

Carol’s laugh was a low, mirthless rumble. Her arms tightened around Therese. “I’m always scared.”

Therese shut her eyes tight, swayed in place with Carol. She focused on matching their breathing together. Breathing was harder than usual.

“But it always seems to turn out alright in the end.”

“Does it?” Therese asked.

“Yes. Not just how we want, not that at all, but alright.”

Therese felt a kiss pressed down into her hair. She held Carol tighter.

* * *

Therese was not there for the next calls, only heard about them after. Carol was working in the shop, or trying to. Distraction usually helped, but the customers weren’t enough to hold her interest. Abby was helping a couple looking for a nightstand for their son’s room. Carol was hiding behind the counter, lest her jealousy come through.

She’d barely slept last night, skipped any coffee today. Her stomach was in knots, always. She kept trying to make sense of Harge and Texas, with only slight success. He’d never shown any fondness for that part of the country. The most he mentioned it at all was to complain about the heat. He loved being in New York, at least near it. She couldn’t fathom him wanting to pick up and move somewhere he had no connections.

Perhaps that was the point. If the firm was expanding, and Carol couldn’t rule that out, Harge might see an opportunity there. He didn’t loathe his parents like she did, but she’d heard him complain enough about wanting to get out from under their thumbs. John Aird was too old, too set in his ways to move across country, and Jennifer would never allow it. She loved that big house too much, hideous decorating and all.

Harge was ambitious. If he saw a chance to strike out on his own, run things as he saw fit, would it be worth leaving everything he’d established here? Carol remembered the day he’d barged in here after the article about Jake’s birth was published. How he’d raged at her for taking everything from him, reputation included. She couldn’t see him wanting particularly to go to Texas, but getting a fresh start, away from her? That was a much clearer picture.

He’d lost his mind, yanked Rindy away after she was buried in the snow. If she were honest, Carol couldn’t say she wouldn’t do the same, had it happened on his watch. It didn’t snow in Texas, did it?

She gripped the counter, her legs unreliable. She’d never have anything like a proper life with Rindy. She could afford the flights back and forth, but so what? Therese had yet to board a plane, feared them a little. Therese wasn’t her own boss, and news didn’t stop on the weekends. Even if Carol could take Therese with her, what would they do? Things were bad enough for people like them in New York, but at least there was Rose and Abby, Steve and the girls. There were secret places they could go, Bombshell included. Two queer women in Bible country? Therese already worried about what might happen to them here.

No, there was no way. Carol would never be able to be a force in Rindy’s life if Harge took her to Texas. All the reason in the world for him to go.

Carol was considering heading in back to do inventory (or to cry without witnesses) when the phone near the counter rang. Abby looked up from her sales pitch long enough for Carol to wave her away, force a smile. Abby would know the expression was false, but the customers wouldn’t. Carol tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, cleared her throat before picking up. She gave the usual greeting, identified the shop, asked how she could help the person on the other end, as if she were qualified to help anyone.

“Hey, Jersey.”

Carol frowned, at the unexpectedness of Angie calling her here, and the strain of hearing her over Jake’s shrieks. “Angie?”

“Hey, doll. Sorry to call you at work. “

Carol half-turned away from Abby and the shoppers, holding the phone closer to her ear. “Why are you?” she asked, and it sounded worse than she meant. “Is something wrong?”

“Nah. Good as it ever is with the banshee here. Steve wanted me to call you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Took off on a little trip. He buzzed me from New Jersey earlier.”

Carol’s frown deepened. Neither Angie nor the customers could see, so she rolled her eyes. “You can just say you can’t say, you know.” New Jersey was the polite way around the Carter-Rogers-Martinelli house of saying that whatever Steve or Peggy were currently up to, it was no one else’s business.

There was a pause during which all Carol could hear were Jake’s wails, and then Angie laughed. “Shit, we do need to get a better code, don’t we? No, seriously, Jersey, he’s in Jersey.”

“Oh. Why?” Carol asked, more curious about what any of this had to do with her than Steve’s motives.

“Rindy’s in Atlantic City, with Harge.”

Carol blinked. This made about as much sense to her as Angie’s little brother calling a few weeks ago to say Rindy was missing. “I…what?”

“Yeah. The Texas stuff was bull, I guess. Abby’s spy over there got made.”

The more Angie talked, the less Carol understood. “Made what?”

“Harge knew you had a guy in his camp. He made stuff up. Asshole.”

“I don’t…Steve told you this? How would he know?”

“Him and English said they’d look into it, right? He talked to Harge.”

“Steve talked to Harge?” The last time that happened, Rindy’s paternity was the subject of a national debate.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m reasonably sure he didn’t screw it this time.”

“What’s Harge doing taking Rindy to Atlantic City?”

“Family vacation, he said.”

“He said,” Carol repeated, because the way Angie said it sent off warning bells. “What else did Harge say?”

“That he’d have Rindy home in a few days, like he told Abby. Steve said that he would.”

“Steve believed him?”

“Steve said that Harge would have her back in a few days. So, she’ll be back.”

Carol struggled to process that, between Jake’s attempts to be part of the conversation, and the ding of the bell over their door that signaled a new arrival. “What else did Steve say?”

“Not a lot. He was calling from a hotel lobby, and Pegs had a tit emergency that I had to take care of.”

Carol almost parroted the ludicrous words, before remembering there were customers. “In the middle of the day?” she said instead, low into the receiver. “Really?”

“What?” Angie sounded genuinely baffled, then she snorted. “Oh, you think that’s code? That’s not code.  I keep forgetting you never gave yours the breast.”

Jake made a particularly concerning noise. Carol felt eyes on her and turned enough to see Abby shooting her a look while still speaking to the couple. A middle-aged woman had just arrived. “Angie, what hotel was Steve calling from?” Carol asked, terrified there wouldn’t be an answer.

Angie knew though, told her. Carol scribbled it down on a shipping slip, hating how her hand shook. She and Angie mutually ended the call, but Carol thanked her first, asked when Steve would be back.

“Don’t know exactly,” Angie said, unconcerned. “He might’ve had some actual New Jersey business to deal with, so we’ll see.”

It took Carol a few seconds to understand what Angie was getting at. They really did need a better code.

Carol spent the next hour or so helping customers. She and Abby did their well-practiced two-person charm routine, sold an armoire to the woman who arrived while Carol was on the phone. As she was writing up the paperwork, Carol panicked briefly, didn’t see the bit of paper with what was hopefully Harge’s hotel name. She found it half-hidden behind a stapler, didn’t think the customer noticed her distraction.

When things finally slowed, she ducked into the little office in the back while Abby spoke to someone on the phone. There was a separate line in here, and Carol grabbed the receiver. The slip with the number was crinkled at the edges where Carol had gripped it too hard.

The steps needed to make the call took longer than they should’ve. Carol willed herself to calm down. The woman who picked up had a tone Carol recognized, that casually professional, customer service voice that sometimes took the utmost effort to maintain. The hotel clerk was on her game today, and Carol matched that, years of practice serving her well. “Yes, hello,” she said, all cheer and warmth, showing none of the strain that threatened to split her at the edges.  

"How may I help you today?"

"Yes, I'd like to be connected to a room please, but I'm not completely sure of the number I'm afraid." She made herself laugh, emphasizing the silliness of her mistake.

"Oh, that shouldn't be a problem, ma'am." the woman assured her pleasantly, "What would be the name of the guest you're trying to reach?

"Harge Aird. Hargess Aird."

"I see. May I ask who is calling for Mr. Arid?"

"I...why?" Carol didn’t mean to slip, but she hadn’t planned for this. As if she had any sort of plan at all.

"He's asked not to be disturbed unless it's important. So, who may I say is calling?"

"His wife."

There was a pause, just a beat too long before a reply. "His wife," the woman repeated finally.

Carol heard doubt there. She hadn’t anticipated doubt.  Shit, maybe this was one of those girls who liked to eye up a man, check for a ring Harge hadn't worn in so long he no longer had a pale line around his finger where it used to be. Carol noticed this the last time Harge handed her a flyer from Rindy’s school, remembered scolding herself for noticing.

“Yes, his wife.” Carol let a note of impatience slip through, used the same tone she had when she and Abby were haggling over the rent for this place. “Mrs. Carol Aird,” she added, though she loathed the title. “Could you hurry up and connect me, please?”

Another pause. Carol was about to fill it, then there was a click, a dial tone droning away in her ear. Stunned, she drew the phone back, stared at the receiver. She’d hoped to intimidate the woman enough to get her way through to Harge. Had she overdone that much? Or was it incompetence, someone new who didn’t understand the phone system? Had Harge told the staff about her, and what to do if she called?

Angry, frustrated, wanting to cry, Carol was about to redial when Abby’s voice reached her, partially muted through the wall. Abby was dealing with another customer. Carol had been fairly useless for days now. She owed Abby the effort of at least showing up.

She reminded herself, again, that she couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t let Harge’s machinations take over her life, or the lives of those she cared about. At least the worst-case scenario seemed unlikely now. Harge hadn’t absconded with their child, not far anyway. Contenting herself with that much, Carol set the phone back in its cradle, squared her shoulders. Her purse was on the desk nearby, and Carol spared one more moment to stuff the hotel’s number inside. Then she crossed to the door and stepped back out into the shop proper, intent on doing her job.

* * *

Carol never called the hotel back. The day became too busy for it, which might’ve been a blessing. She contemplated calling Angie again when she got home, but ultimately chose not to. It was Steve she really wanted to speak with, to find out about Harge, and nothing said he would be there if he was out doing his secret Captain America things. Peggy and Angie were probably alone with two kids, and Rindy’s infancy wasn’t so long ago that Carol had forgotten the absolute desolation of finally getting a baby down to sleep only to have the phone undo all her work.

She talked to Therese instead, about everything she’d learned. She hoped Steve would call.

He didn’t, but someone else did. Rindy called her Miss Ava, Carol couldn’t remember what the housekeeper’s proper name was. She’d met the woman only a handful of times, and Carol’s only real impression of her was that she was an improvement over Florence. Which wasn’t saying much.

She was baffled when Ava the housekeeper called their home, bearing a message from Harge. He would be home by the weekend; would Carol like to have dinner with him and Rindy? It was less a request than a statement, as though there was no real doubt Carol would agree. There wasn’t. Not if Rindy would be there. Harge had already made reservations, and Carol wondered what Steve might’ve said to him to trigger this sudden about-face.

She wondered also, and knew Therese shared the concern, if Rindy would be there at all. He’d done it before, baited her with her child to bring her in close. She had to go, regardless, and Therese, dearest Therese, understood that.

So, Carol found herself touching up her makeup one last time on Saturday night, preparing to leave. Her reflection was nervous, frazzled as it looked back at her through the dresser mirror. She didn’t fear Harge, she was simply angry as hell with him. She feared another night going by without seeing Rindy.

Therese sat perched on their bed, watching her. “Will you tell her I love her, if you can?”

The request, so simple, so nervous underneath, brought Carol up short, brought her out of herself. As much as she dreaded facing what this dinner might bring, it was worse for Therese. Therese who would sit here and wait for her, with no chance to face anything, no chance at all of seeing Rindy. Carol turned, walked until she was stood in front of Therese. Drawing Therese close, Carol held her there, her fingers free to run through Therese’s hair. Carol had to look perfect. It was the only armor she had. Therese would stay here, in comfy slacks and bare feet, because there was no other option.

Carol pulled away, touched Therese’s cheek. She rubbed her thumb along Therese’s mouth, a soft gesture in place of a kiss, because she’d ruin her lipstick otherwise. “I will tell her,” Carol said, holding Therese’s gaze. Therese framed it as a request because she knew Harge wouldn’t like it. He didn’t like hearing Therese’s name, he didn’t like Therese expressing affection for _his_ daughter.

Fuck him.

Carol ended up kissing Therese anyway. Therese fixed her lipstick.

She knew the restaurant Harge had picked, showed up half an hour early. Harge wasn’t there yet, and the host said she could wait at the table, but Carol declined. She could picture Harge changing his mind on a whim, driving right past the building. Hopefully that would be harder to do with her standing right in front of him. If not, if he drove past her, she could at least flip him off as he went.

She hung around outside, ignored the cold, smoked. She saw right away when Harge’s car turned onto the street, saw soon after that that Rindy’s face was pressed to the window, her little hand waving furiously. Carol, heedless of passersby, waved back, furiously, her arm cutting through the chill evening wind.

Rindy laughed and shrieked, opened her door before Harge got to his. Carol was waiting right outside the car, knew and didn’t care that it annoyed him. Rindy half leapt, half fell into her arms.

“Mommy!” she cried. “Mommy, I _missed_ you!”

Knelt by the open door, Carol fought herself. If she didn’t want to cry, her eyes needed to be closed. But she didn’t want that, not at all. Rindy was the most precious, beautiful sight in the world in her navy-blue coat and matching hat, and Carol wanted to see her forever. She smothered Rindy in kisses, held her too tight. “My baby. Oh, I missed you so much. I missed you so, so much, snowflake.”

Rindy squirmed and chattered in her ear, intent on catching her up on nearly a month of news. Carol heard it but didn’t hear it. She basked in the words themselves, in Rindy’s voice, without taking them in. She might’ve stayed there all night, happily, bent by the curb, in the cold, listening to Rindy speak, except there was the noise of snow crunching underfoot, and then there was Harge’s shadow, cast over them by a streetlight.

“Carol,” he said.

It was a greeting, she supposed. Carol ignored it. She’d worried about him and where he was and what he was doing for days, weeks. Now Rindy was in her arms and nothing about him mattered.

“Come on, sweet pea,” he told Rindy, seemingly realizing that Carol was a lost cause. “Let’s go in and get warm. We’ll get those noodles you like.”

“Mommy too?” Rindy asked, her hat in danger of falling off.

“Yes,” Carol answered. “Oh yes, sweetheart. I love you, Rindy.”

“Love you too. Can I have the bread with the gooey stuff?”

Rindy was getting big to be carried, but Carol refused to let her go. Harge put a hand on Carol’s elbow to help her stand up, then over her back. Carol felt a pang of guilt. Therese wouldn’t like that. Carol didn’t either, but the touches were fast and fleeting, and nothing compared to Rindy’s arms around her neck.

They walked in looking every bit the happy family, which Carol was sure Harge wanted. He’d reserved a private table, which Carol hadn’t realized when she first arrived. It was in its own little area, away from the main dining room. Carol knew there were spaces like this dotting the restaurant, but had never made use of one. Harge liked to be seen, in his best suit, with his beautiful family and his bottomless wallet.

They sat in a booth. Rindy remained practically in Carol’s lap, and Carol didn’t argue in the slightest. A waiter came and Harge ordered for all of them. Carol might’ve hated that, except she hadn’t eaten here since before the divorce and couldn’t be bothered to look at the menu. Rindy talked so much that she started to cough on nothing. Then she kept talking. She asked about Lizzie once, Carol thought, but didn’t leave time for a reply. She asked about Steve and his motorcycle and if you could ride motorcycles in snow. Whatever the circumstances of Steve’s conversation with Harge, Rindy seemed unaware of it.

She said that she’d made Daddy check the paper every day, in case Therese had a picture there. It was Carol’s turn to choke on air.

Harge attempted small talk once or twice. Carol ignored him, mostly, which was easy with Rindy monopolizing the conversation. She started on about someone named Mouse, who’d gone on the trip with her and Daddy. Carol assumed this to be a new imaginary friend for whom she’d missed the birth announcement, or her latest favorite toy.

“They have an inside pool, Mommy, and Mouse helped me pick out a new bathing suit.”

“Did he? I hope he chose a nice color for you.” For the first time in awhile, Carol spared a glance at Harge. He loved their child dearly, but he couldn’t dress her to save his life.

Rindy wrinkled her nose, giggled. “Mouse is a she Mommy. A lady.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” Carol bopped Rindy’s nose with her finger. “Do you think she’ll be able to forgive me?”

Rindy considered this. “Yes,” she said, with a definitive nod. “Mouse is nice. I love her.”

“Well, then I suppose I’ll have to love her too, won’t I?”

Rindy nodded enthusiastically. The waiter dropped off a bottle of wine and pored two glasses. Carol hadn’t given hers a thought, but Harge topped his off with more after the man left.

“Mommy look!” Rindy said, recapturing Carol’s attention. “We match!”

Rindy had reached up to grasp tiny fingers over the necklace circling Carol’s throat. One more piece of the armor Carol put on before leaving the apartment. As Carol watched, Rindy pulled at her own necklace, which had been tangled under Rindy’s shirt, hidden from view.

They didn’t match really, but both pieces were pretty. Carol's was a simple peridot teardrop necklace, something Abby had gifted her with the first birthday she had after Rindy was born and they were on speaking terms again. Rindy’s was a little silver star, with a gem in the middle.

“Would you look at that?” Carol said, the tip of her fingernail brushing over the stone. “That’s just gorgeous, isn’t it? Where did you get such a pretty thing?”

“Daddy and Mouse picked it for me while we were on vacation.”

Carol was very familiar with Harge’s love of spoiling Rindy. It was probably the only thing she, Abby and Harge all had in common. Carol wouldn’t have thought anything of Rindy’s statement if she hadn’t noticed Harge tensing, straightening in his seat.

“Rindy,” he said, but got no further.

“Daddy and Mouse got each other presents,” Rindy continued, “so I got something too.”

Rindy went about trying to make her necklace catch the light just so, because Carol simply _had_ to understand how pretty it really was. For the first time since she’d seen her through the glass of the car window, Harge had more of Carol’s attention than Rindy. Under her gaze, Harge reached for his wineglass, drank. As he did, Carol saw something glint, hit the light the way Rindy was trying for with her necklace.

Their eyes met. Harge knew that she knew. He pulled his hand out of sight, to the napkin in his lap, but it was too late.

Carol’s throat was tight, dry as sandpaper. There was water and wine in front of her, both going untouched. “Harge.” That voice wasn’t hers, didn’t sound a thing like hers. “Why are you wearing a wedding band?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did name it Bombshell, didn’t I? 
> 
> Our ladies do not deserve to have their girls’ night usurped by Harge and…whatever the hell he’s got going. So, that’ll be a story for the next story. Meantime, meet me in the comments, let’s talk.

**Author's Note:**

> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts, or just to hear from you guys. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined.
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


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